


(life)lines

by AnGoose



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Identity Reveal, Lack of Communication, M/M, Past Wade Wilson/Vanessa Carlysle - Freeform, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker is a Prostitute, Peter Parker isn't Spider-Man, Poor Peter Parker, Posessive Wade Wilson, Protective Wade Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 49,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnGoose/pseuds/AnGoose
Summary: When Wade takes home a callboy, he isn’t expecting to find his second chance at love. Now that it’s in front of him, he doesn’t want to let it go. He knows he can make his sweetie happy; that they can pull each other up. That is, if his baby boy’s insistence on keeping secrets doesn’t end up tearing them both down.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 448
Collections: Spideypool Big Bang - The 2019 Collection





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the SpideyPool Big Bang 2019.
> 
> Holy shit, this was a thing. 
> 
> The lovely art is by [Cheermione](https://cheermione.tumblr.com/), who deserves all of the applause. You can find the art right [here!](https://cheermione.tumblr.com/post/611123811984818176/spideypool-big-bang-2019-art-masterpost-the-time)
> 
> Endless thanks to the wonderful TsukiWolf, who beta read this unholy beast and encouraged me in just about every way you can think of.

Deadpool is not in a great mood.

After attempting to do things the normal, healthy way, he took off across Europe for the better part of a year. He tried a new method of getting over his grief, attempting to kill that horrible void in his chest that’s been dogging him since everything with Ness by killing as many assholes as he could. Some had very lucrative contracts involved. Many didn’t. None of them filled that terrible, gaping hole.

In the end, feeling homesick, he’d slunk back to New York, pockets full and heart painfully empty.

Being in New York is its own type of awful, though. Even though he got a new apartment, he still feels haunted by the ghost of Vanessa. It isn’t the same couch, but he remembers sitting and watching movies on _their_ couch. It isn’t the same bed, but he can’t help but imagine her mussed hair and blanket nest whenever he walks in. Hell, even coffee is difficult. He keeps expecting her to snatch the mug from him, grumpy and bleary-eyed and still the most amazingly beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

So he tries to avoid spending too much time in his apartment, but then he’ll walk by a restaurant or a food truck that _they’d_ tried, _together_. He actually stands and weeps at the corner of a street where some asshole had cat-called Ness. She had promptly turned on her heel and yelled ‘ _Today’s the day!’_ before breaking his nose while Wade held her purse.

He takes gold cards from Weasel, for something, _anything_ else to focus on. Most of them are comically below his pay-grade, and they don’t do much to take his mind off of Ness. His latest attempt involves spending his days harassing Weasel. Al has long since banished him, and the X-Men aren’t answering his voicemails or his texts, _the assholes_. He whines and rambles on until he finds some topic he gets worked up enough to rant about, and sometimes, for a few blissful minutes, he forgets. Eventually, Weasel gets so sick of it that he makes up a list of alternative activities for Wade.

Weasel’s idea for tonight is to try to get Wade wasted, so he’s sitting at the bar with his fourth bottle of whiskey. After pounding the first two, he’s found he can maintain at least something of a buzz if he times it right. Unfortunately, his success at getting himself tipsy isn’t translating into success in lightening his mood. He can tell, because the bar is busy, but there is a ten-foot bubble around him. The patrons of _Sister Margaret’s Home for Wayward Children_ are not known for their keen survival instincts. So he must be giving off some pretty strong murder vibes if the only one willing to approach him is Weasel with another bottle of booze.

It’s fine, though. If Wade can’t be with Ness five-ever, then he’s meant to be alone six-ever. He lets himself think about her as he takes another swig. He met her here. It feels like it was so long ago. Back when he was a beautiful beefcake, and –

“ – got something for me?” a slightly raspy, but young, sounding voice startles him out of his thoughts. He looks over at the source of the disturbance and lets his jaw drop ever so slightly.

Standing not three feet away is probably the cutest boy he’s ever seen. The kid doesn’t look like he belongs here at all. He’s dressed in tight jeans and an oversized black shirt that hangs loosely off one shoulder. Tied around his neck is a length of bright red fabric, the knot skewed off to the side. Wade thinks he spots a hair clip, keeping soft brown curls out of the boy’s face. And his face – Wade’s pretty sure he sees _freckles_ , even in the shitty lighting of the bar. He’s far too pretty and innocent-looking to be in a bar like this.

But it’s the swollen, almost-bruised looking lips that give him away. He must be new, Wade thinks, since he’s always kept an eye on the prostitutes that frequent _Sister Margaret’s_ and he’s certain he’d remember a face – and an ass – like the ones on this kid. It’s a good thing he wasn’t actually addressing Wade, because he’s been staring for an uncomfortably long time.

Paying the leather-clad, extremely armed mercenary no mind, the boy leans forward lazily as Weasel approaches, a beat-up looking backpack in hand.

“I’m not a coat-checking service,” Weas starts, shaking the bag just out of the boy’s reach for emphasis, “or your damn boyfriend. I don’t appreciate -

“- Thanks, you’re the best!” the kid beams, ignoring the beginnings of what Wade recognizes as a very, very drawn out diatribe.

The boy uses the bar-top to push himself up so he can reach out and snatch the bag from Weasel. As he slides back down, the front of his shirt catches and reveals the soft, unblemished skin of his belly.

It feels a little bit like watching younger, slightly more polite, male Vanessa. And yeah, that’s a lot of differences there, but there’s something in the way the boy holds himself that’s achingly familiar. Wade feels his buzz start to fade and quickly takes several large gulps from the bottle, not bothering to look away. The kid’s in his space. If he doesn’t like it, he can leave.

Instead of looking put off, though, the kid flashes him a little smile as he digs through the backpack. It must be where he stashes things like condoms since with pants that tight, there’s no way he has much pocket space.

“I hope it’s okay with you if I hang out here for a bit,” the boy finally breaks the silence between them, still groping around inside the bag. “I’m getting a little sick of dodging grabby hands.”

Wade snorts and knocks back the last of the bottle, which isn’t even a mouthful. “You sure this is better?”

“Well,” the kid finally pulls out a packet of Skittles, and Wade almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation, “you’re not groping me right now, and no one is harassing me, so yeah.” He shrugs and rips open the candy, tipping some directly into his mouth before offering the bag to Deadpool.

Wade blinks at it for a second before waving it off. “You do realize who I am, right? Like, crazy, unkillable mercenary for hire? Deadpool?”

The kid looks at him for a second as he finishes eating the candy in his mouth. Wade carefully tracks the motion of his throat as he swallows. “Yup!” the boy leans in, almost conspiratorially, “the outfit kind of gave it away. You can call me Ben, by the way!”

“I’m Deadpool,” Wade repeats, like an idiot. As if they hadn’t just established that. He blames the alcohol, even though he’s pretty sure he’s not even a little bit drunk anymore.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Deadpool,” the kid – Ben, though he’d pay good money that isn’t actually his name-- says cordially, tipping more Skittles into his mouth. Wade can’t tell if the kid is mocking him or not. He can appreciate the subtle meanness of it if he is. It feels like something Ness would do with some random asshole she couldn’t directly confront. Sure it’s not the playfully mean digs he and Ness would aim at each other in the beginning, but then there are very few people who can get away with insulting Deadpool to his face these days. That the kid decided to approach him as casually as he did is impressive enough.

“Do you just not like the taste?” Deadpool asks abruptly, watching the kid slowly chew and swallow, tracking the movement of that pale, thin neck.

“What?” Ben looks confused for a second, before laughing. “Oh, well, no, not really. There’s this really nasty rubber aftertaste, you know?”

“Love is cleaner with a packaged wiener,” Wade intones flatly. “I’m glad sex-ed didn’t fail you completely.”

“Ha! Comprehensive sex-ed? In America? I learned about safe sex from web-comics!” Ben flashes him a grin, ignoring the stool in favor of leaning back against the bar top, looking out at the mass of violent drunks that populate _Sister Margaret’s_. He’s put himself within easy touching range for Deadpool, which is almost definitely deliberate. It feels a little bit like a conversation he’d already had with a different prostitute in this bar. _‘You had sex-ed? I had web-comics!’_ and he’d have replied ‘ _You had internet? We had textbooks published before Captain America was born!’_ But he doesn’t say that.

Instead, he says, “So, who have you blown?” it’s a weird and probably rude question to ask, but he’s kind of hoping to either scare the kid off or get him to unsheathe his claws. Wade’s not entirely sure which one he wants.

“My ‘regulars’ are Tad,” Ben replies, surprising Wade. “Lenny, Rick, Ned, Alicia – although that’s more ‘eating out’ than blowing, so I’m not sure if that counts,” he’s glancing in the direction of each of these people, pointing them out for Wade in a way that isn’t too obvious. “Oh, and I was just dealing with Buck before I came over here.”

Deadpool is familiar with Buck. Imagining Ben on his knees in front of the man is not a pleasant mental image. “And how was that?” he asks, trying to keep his tone light and judgment-free.

Ben gives a little snort. “His name’s a little _too_ on the nose, and he doesn’t practice the best hygiene,” he wrinkles his nose, an action that is unfairly cute given the topic of conversation, “but he’s consistent and he tips and it’s pretty quick and easy, so…”

Wade laughs. It’s the first time he’s genuinely laughed in a long time. Beside him, Ben gives a little giggle and pours more Skittles into his mouth. 

The kid’s easy on the eyes, he thinks, and funny. It feels a little bit like he’s betraying Ness by even thinking about it, but she wouldn’t want him to be lonely and sad. And he’s been so very, very lonely. Wherever she is, he thinks she wouldn’t be too insulted to have him use a kid this cute as a stand-in for her. That Ben is packing different equipment will just make it easier for him not to get so drawn into the comparison that he ends up a crying mess mid-fuck. Hell, he can offer enough money that the kid’ll be happy to overlook his nasty, shriveled avocado complexion. Probably. Maybe. He hopes.

Wade’s debating if and how to go about propositioning the kid when Weasel slams down another bottle, Tequila, in front of him.

A minute later, Weasel is placing a garishly bright orange beverage in front of the kid. Ben turns to grab it, only to have Weasel swat his hand away. There is a strange sort of staring contest between the two as Weasel pulls out a can of whipped cream and sprays a huge mound of it haphazardly on top of his drink. If a mound of whipped cream could convey emotions, Wade thinks this one would be telegraphing defeat and sadness.

Ignorant of the emotional struggles of the whipped cream, Ben cheers.

“You’re actually doing it!”

“Condoms can’t protect you from diabetes,” Weasel says flatly, fixing whatever he just served Ben with a faintly disgusted glare.

“I’ll be fine,” Ben dismisses easily. “I’ve got a six pack, wanna see?”

“That doesn’t- ugh no, I’m pretty sure I’m one of the only people in this bar who doesn’t want to see you naked,” Weasel shuts him down quickly, even though Ben is clearly about to lift his shirt to demonstrate. “Please, I’m begging you, keep your clothes on.”

“Awww, Weas, you’re no fun!”

“Fuck off, kid,” Weasel shoots back as he retreats.

“I’ll get you one of these days,” Ben calls after him. “You can’t resist me forever!”

That earns him a rude gesture from Weasel, but nothing else. Ben gives a fake pout for a second, before leaning forward to lick some of the whipped cream from the top of his drink. He catches Deadpool staring, and withdraws slowly, pointedly licking his lips.

Wade glances between him and the unopened bottle of tequila, coming to a decision. As much as he appreciates Weasel’s efforts, attempting to drink away his sorrows will only result in Wade scrubbing his own brain matter out of his mask. Again. If he asks the kid and he says no, it’ll probably be even worse, but if he says yes, then he’ll be able to distract himself with sex. At least for a little while.

Let it never be said that Wade is averse to risk. Bracing himself, he pulls his mask down over his mouth. The kid has almost definitely made note of the mess that is his skin, so he can make an informed decision. Wade doesn’t particularly want to see him stare at it if that decision turns out to be ‘no’.

“Come home with me.” It’s not phrased as a question. He’s not even looking at Ben. It’s just about the least smooth way he could have done this. Vanessa would have laughed at him and walked away.

There’s a pause, and Wade tenses, thinking that the kid’s a touch more polite than Ness, so he’s being courteous enough to walk away beforelaughing.

Instead, he feels the boy draw closer and set a hand delicately on his bicep.

“Hey, so, you got a bit mumbly there,” Ben’s voice is suddenly gentle. There’s nothing mocking or mean in it at all. The earlier humor is gone, replaced with… something.

Wade avoids looking at him, ready for the rejection but not wanting to look it in the face.

“I _think_ you just asked me to come home with you. Is that correct?”

Wade nods stiffly, still not willing to look at him.

“Are you asking to go home with you for sex, or is this more of a ‘grab takeout and play video-games’ type question, here?” Ben is leaning closer, trying to look at Deadpool’s face. The mask probably makes it difficult to get a good read on what he’s feeling, but he refuses to feel bad about that.

“I’m only asking because in one case, we should start talking hourly rates, and in the other, I’m gonna have to ask you to wait a bit while I squeeze a couple of other guys in first. Bills to pay and all that.”

And _that_ gets him to turn his head, maybe a touch too quickly, because he almost smashes his head into Ben’s face. They’re barely an inch apart now.

“I know which one I want it to be, but I don’t want to make any assumptions,” Ben says softly, and Wade is certain he can feel his candy-sweet breath breaking on his skin even through the protective layer of his mask. Ness liked candy, too, but he doesn’t think she was ever, ever this sweet.

“And which one do you want it to be?” Wade’s voice comes out sounding a lot more pathetic than he wanted.

Ben draws back just an inch or so and smiles sheepishly, “I’d really, really prefer not to suck any more dick in a bathroom or behind a dumpster.”

Wade blinks. This is almost worse than a ‘no’. His voice comes out cold, “Well, that’s one way to make a guy feel special.”

Ben winces, pulling back even further and visibly crumpling in on himself. “Fuck, sorry, I mean. I…I liked talking to you, you know? And that doesn’t happen often, obviously, and also I think you’re really…like, I bet you could pick me up, you know? You’re so big and stuff, and- and I’m really sorry, I just totally fucked it up, didn’t I?”

Wade watches, almost transfixed as the coy, snarky prostitute melts away, leaving a nervous, awkward boy in front of him. Maybe this is what Ben was all along, and Wade was so wrapped up in imagining him as Ness that he couldn’t see it.

Vanessa would have pushed back, would have made an even meaner dig, and then strutted away, leaving Wade to chase after her. She most certainly would not have apologized or admitted that she found him at all attractive. That attitude was one of the things he loved most about her, and yet…

If Ben had done that, Wade doesn’t think he would have liked it at all. He doesn’t really want coy and snarky and a little bit mean right now.

It’s a very weird, almost sickening feeling. What Wade wants right now isn’t Ness. He isn’t just trying to find a stand-in for her.

And if he isn’t trying to find a stand in for her, then what the fuck is he even doing?

He still hasn’t said anything to Ben, and the boy has turned bright red and his eyes are shiny with tears. He’s zipping up his bag and looks about ready to run when Wade’s hand shoots out to grab his arm and pull him back.

Ben looks legitimately scared now but goes along easily. It’s not like resisting Deadpool is a good idea. Wade keeps a hold on him while he reaches into one of his pouches with the other hand.

“This cover it?” He asks, pushing a folded wad of cash into Ben’s chest. The boy looks down, eyes wide, and takes it. The stack is not thin, and Ben gulps when he sees the denomination. Wade watches as he carefully unfolds the bills and counts it up.

“I-I don’t,” he looks down at the money, then up at Wade, “I thought…I mean.”

“Have you changed your mind?” Deadpool asks, and he realizes he’s being a touch mean, but there’s a sick little part of his mind that’s really enjoying the apologetic, scared little boy in front of him. Fuck, his eyelashes are even clumped together with tears that haven’t fallen yet, and he shouldn’t think that’s at all attractive. Wade doesn’t even know what he wants with this kid right now. Only that he doesn’t want him to go.

“N-no,” Ben shakes his head.

“Then finish your drink, it’ll probably make you feel a little better,” Wade nods to the orange-with-whipped-cream monstrosity, “and let’s go.”

“There’s no alcohol in it,” Ben replies, still staring at Deadpool. “I, uhm, it’s just orange soda. And this is way too much money.”

Every word out of his mouth is somehow, miraculously, even more ridiculous than the last. Wade slowly draws him in closer, settling his hands on the boy’s hips as he stares into those big doe eyes. He doesn’t know how the hell he thought this boy was anything like Ness. He’s got a lost, innocent little boy in his arms, not a seasoned prostitute with a wicked sense of humor and a twisted mind to match his own.

And he doesn’t want to let go.

“Then leave it,” Wade says, voice rough. “And what the hell kind of hooker are you, trying to tell someone they’re overpaying?”

“Okay,” Ben nods. “Yeah, okay, you’re right.”

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Wade asks again, forcing himself to be gentle. He doesn’t want to drag this kid to his apartment because he’s too afraid to say no.

“Yeah. Yes. Definitely,” Ben swallows. “I’m sorry, it was just a lot, really fast, you know? I’m totally fine. I really want to go with you.”

Wade isn’t entirely convinced, but he’s not about to tell the kid to leave at this point. He reaches into his pouch again, places a couple of twenties on the counter for a tip, and stands.

“Hey!” he calls, his voice carrying over the general din of the bar, “I’ll pay my tab tomorrow!”

Weasel looks up and raises an eyebrow at the two of them, then gives a tiny salute before returning to the conversation he was having with another merc.

.

By the time they’ve gotten into Wade’s apartment, he still hasn’t decided what he wants. Or if he even wants sex at all.

Ben is standing in the middle of his studio apartment, looking horribly out of place with the oversized sweatshirt he’d pulled out of his backpack to wear during the slightly chilly walk over.

He doesn’t look like a sex worker. He just looks lost and a little bit confused.

And that’s probably at least partially Wade’s fault, because as soon as he got Ben into the apartment, he’d immediately gone to grab them both glasses of water. Like the smooth motherfucker he is.

He hands the glass of water to Ben, who takes it wordlessly, and then begins puttering around the apartment, babbling aimlessly about Golden Girls and movie marathons and anything he can think of that is not even remotely sexual.

Ben lets him go on like this for nearly thirty minutes before he closes the distance between them and gently takes Wade’s hand in his. His tiny, delicate little hands. Wade stares at them wonderingly. He thinks even Ness had larger hands than this boy, although he’s not entirely sure because enough brain damage can permanently fuck up his memory even if it can’t kill him.

“Deadpool,” he starts, his voice soft, “how can I make you more comfortable? Do you want me to go? I’ll give you back your money if you want me to leave. It’s okay.”

Again with the weirdly innocent, sweet bullshit. Wade doesn’t know what to do with this. There’s no way he can mindlessly screw this kid. He’s not sure he wants to even subject the boy to his own naked body. Even if the kid’s already fucked countless men in bathrooms and back alleys, there’s no way he’s ready to deal with someone as grotesque as Wade.

“No, not that’s not what I want,” he replies weakly, then gestures at himself. “I’m just, ah, not a real piece of eye-candy, you know?”

Ben looks up at him, making eye contact with the whites of his mask. “It’s fine, I promise I won’t mind.”

Wade lets out a weak rasp of a laugh, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.”

“That’s not – okay. Alright. Do you want to blindfold me? Would that make it better?”

The mental image of Ben, naked and writhing underneath him on his bed with his ridiculous little red neck-scarf tied over his eyes flashes through Wade’s mind.

It’s a pretty thought, more than a little tempting, but it’s not what he wants. He shakes his head.

“You could keep your clothes on?” Ben offers, but that feels too much like a back-alley fuck and Wade brought this boy to his apartment for more than that.

“Do you…do you want to just…cuddle?” Ben finally suggests, seemingly at a loss.

That, that seems doable. That seems nice, even. Not a betrayal of Ness, or a violation of this strangely sweet prostitute he’s managed to find.

“Yeah, alright. Let’s cuddle,” Wade nods, drawing Ben into his arms and bringing them over to the couch. The bed feels too close to sexual, right now. He’s acutely aware of how pathetic this is, even as he flops himself down and pulls Ben to lay on top of him, slotting their legs together and pulling him to his chest.

It doesn’t feel pathetic though. It feels nice to have the slight, warm weight on top of him. He can feel the steady beat of Ben’s heart against his sternum, and he runs gloved fingers through the soft curls resting against his collar bone.

He’s fallen into a sort of foggy, thoughtless place when he feels Ben wiggle around and start to sit up.

“I’m just getting kind of warm,” the boy says in a whisper, pulling his sweatshirt off and tossing it on the ground before laying back down. Wade just nods, and wraps his arms back around him, falling easily back into that restful, not-sleep state. It’s nice, just having someone there to touch and hold, who isn’t trying to fight him or hurt him or get anything from him. He knows Ben is only doing this for the money, but it feels more genuine and less transactional than most of his interactions with his ‘allies’ these days.

He’s not really sure how long they spend like that before he comes back to himself.

Ben’s making these soft little noises and rocking, ever so gently, against him. He’s worried until he looks down and sees the boy’s blushing face tucked carefully against his chest, and notices that he’s managed to get one hand up under Ben’s shirt and the other down the back of his pants.

And _oh_ , he can feel where the boy is straddling his thigh that Ben is most definitely enjoying it.

Cautiously, he tightens his grip on the boy’s ass and waist and deliberately presses down as he gently pushes his thigh _up_. The choked off noise Ben makes is all pleasure, so Wade does it again. He gets a soft little moan this time that starts a low, simmering heat in his belly.

“Hey baby,” Wade’s voice is a little gravelly. Maybe he did drift off for a bit there, “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he feels Ben nod against his chest, so Wade keeps moving his smaller body in a slow press and grind. The boy doesn’t try to speed up or increase the pressure, even as his breathing becomes heavier and his whimpers and moans more and more desperate.

“Feeling good?” Wade asks and presses his thigh against the boy with just a little bit more pressure. Ben’s loud moan is answer enough. “Yeah, you are,” Wade rumbles, delighted. “You’re so pretty like this. Wanna hear it, wanna see it when you fall apart for me.”

Ben’s breathing in ragged little gasps, broken up by moans. He lifts his head a fraction so he can look up at Wade with hazy eyes. Wade forces his hips down a little bit harder, a little bit faster, just so he can see those pretty brown eyes lose what little focus they have. Ben’s face contorts beautifully, his mouth dropping open on a beautiful, strangled groan. He doesn’t break eye contact though, not even as Wade feels him stiffen and jerk against his thigh. Easing up, he continues rocking the boy’s hips gently until Ben relaxes completely against him.

They only stay like that for a few breaths before Ben is wiggling down between Wade’s legs. It feels like the wind is being knocked out of him when that soft mop of brown curls comes to a stop right over his crotch, so Ben can mouth gently at where his dick is straining against the leather of his outfit.

He catches a hint of a smirk before Ben is nuzzling and planting kisses along the length. Hands trace lightly up his thighs before coming to rest at the waistband of his pants.

“Is this okay?” Ben is looking up at him, lips brushing whisper soft against him as he speaks.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Wade groans at the sight, “yeah. Yeah, just let me…” he gently pushes himself back so he’s reclining against the armrest, giving Ben more room to stretch out between his legs. Desperation to feel those lips on his skin overrides Wade’s self-consciousness as he pulls himself out. He’s heavily scarred, even down there, but it isn’t _too_ much flesh on display.

The way Ben’s eyes go to half-mast when it springs free is reassuring.

As is the way he slowly traces a finger up the underside, before softly tracing around the tip. Wade lets his head tip back and his hips flex up into the touch, curses falling freely from his lips.

A thought springs into his head as Ben takes him in his fist and strokes him, warm breath teasing against the bare flesh.

“I _ah_ \- I can’t catch anything,” Wade pants. “So I-I’m clean.”

It isn’t until after he stutters out the words that he realizes how inappropriate it is. He opens his mouth to apologize, only to have the words stick in his throat as Ben licks him from base to tip.

“Good,” the boy breathes out as he mouths along the side of Wade’s dick, layering it with sloppy kisses. “I hate the taste of rubber.”

Wade’s answering laugh is cut off with a groan as perfect, wet heat closes around him. He’s large enough that not all of it fits inside that cute little mouth. Ben takes the rest of him in hand to stroke him in time as he bobs his head. Saliva runs down to slick the way, and Wade loses all coherency as Ben starts sucking, hard, every time he draws back.

It feels like it’s been forever since anyone touched him like this. Longer since it felt like they truly _wanted_ to. He doesn’t last long and he can’t bring himself to be at all embarrassed about it, not when it feels this good. He tries to warn Ben, and when that apparently fails, he tries to push the boy back, only for him to press in further and swallow him deeper. It’s too much. Far, far too much, and everything goes white for long moments as he grinds up into that wonderful, _perfect_ mouth and comes with a yell.

He’s only partially aware when Ben pulls off him with a gasp and smiles lazily behind the mask as he pulls the boy up against him.

It’s the feeling of sweat drying under leather that finally forces Wade to move.

“Shower time,” he says with a grunt as he sits up, gently moving Ben off his lap. Ben glances down at his pants and winces, before nodding.

“Yeah okay, if you want me to go, I can just-” Wade tugs Ben back down when the kid starts to stand.

“Shower with me.” Right now, the only thing he’s dreading more than showing Ben his skin is being alone.

Ben stares at him for a moment, before nodding. “Right, yeah, okay.”

It’s easy enough to lead him into the bathroom. Wade decides to start by stripping Ben first, that’ll give him some time to work up the nerve to take his own clothes off. And it’ll be harder for Ben to run away if he’s naked.

With Ness, stripping was almost violently competitive. Sometimes they’d play a game; whoever got the other one naked first got to top. Ness could be downright vicious in her victory, especially after Weapon X happened and Wade could take whatever she wanted to deal out.

It’s nothing like that with Ben. The smaller man holds mostly still while Wade gently pulls his clothes off, blushing luminously as he tries to maintain the appearance of calm. It’s adorable.

Wade takes his time to thoroughly look over his companion. The shitty lighting of the bar, then his own desperation for human contact had hidden the deep, dark circles under Ben’s eyes from him. The boy looks exhausted. Wade just wants to tuck him into bed. He would, once he had him cleaned up. Ben probably wouldn’t appreciate waking up in crusty pants. And Wade is selfish enough that he wants the chance to see him naked.

Ben hadn’t lied to Weasel when he’d mentioned having a six pack, but despite the definition, there’s still a _softness_ there. Wade pulls off a glove with his teeth so he can feel it when he runs his fingers over that silky-smooth skin. Ben gasps a little, his abdominal muscles twitching ever so slightly at the touch.

Enthralled, Wade kneels before his boy so he can watch closely as he unbuttons and pulls his pants and underwear down. Ben is a total mess, but Wade doesn’t think he’s seen anything this lovely in the last year. For the most part, Ben is very lean. Almost too lean, truthfully. The one exception to this appears to be his glorious ass. There are two types of men in the world; those with pancakes, and those with cupcakes. Ben has, in Wade’s extensive experience, the best damn cupcakes.

He’s disappointed when he finally has Ben standing naked in his bathroom. He’s going to have to take his own clothes off now. The boy looks very tense and distinctly uncomfortable. Wade can’t tell if that’s because of the sticky mess that’s slowly drying on his skin or the fact that he’s completely naked while Wade is only down one glove at this point.

Stalling, Wade turns on the shower. It always takes a couple minutes to heat up, anyways.

Then there’s nothing else to do except peel off the itchy leather. Wade stops himself from turning away from Ben or making the boy go stand in a corner facing the wall while he divests his clothes. He can’t get himself to make eye contact, though, and takes his mask off last.

Ben doesn’t make a noise the whole time. It would be an uncomfortable silence, except that Wade is grateful that he isn’t hearing shrieks of terror or disgust. And the way he _looks_ at Wade, there isn’t any horror, no pity. There isn’t any lust or awe, either, but there is a careful sort of curiosity.

He stops breathing when Ben reaches out tentatively to caress his shoulder and arm.

“Damn, Deadpool,” Ben is blushing and it sounds like he’s trying and failing to inject some confidence into his voice. “Your biceps are, like, the size of my head. I totally thought you had some padding going on under all that leather.”

Wade laughs, shocked and a little relieved. “Nope, no padding here, just rock-hard muscles.” He gives his best impression of an eyebrow waggle and leers in an exaggerated fashion.

Ben smiles back, his blush receding slightly and some of the tension draining from his small frame. “Alright, Mr. Muscles, we should shower before you run out of hot water.”

Wade pushes Ben under the spray first and insists on soaping him up. Ben looks a little like a grumpy kitten under the spray as he lets Wade scrub at him with a sudsy washcloth.

“I can bathe myself,” Ben grumbles as his leg is lifted to wash the bottom of his foot.

“Enjoy it, Baby Boy,” Wade grins up at him. “How many times are you gonna get paid to have a superhero wash your feet?”

Ben visibly bites the inside of his cheek and looks away, which makes Wade laugh. Once he’s gotten Ben as clean as he can, he grabs Ben and spins them. The water goes from hot to barely warm, and Wade is glad he managed to switch places before the water heater failed them entirely.

“Here, I’ll clean you up now,” it’s probably supposed to sound seductive, or maybe threatening, but Ben misses the mark on both entirely.

He’s brandishing the washcloth at Wade, who half expects him to try to attack. Or maybe just scrub slightly harder than necessary in sensitive areas. Vanessa probably would have attempted to strangle or castrate him if he’d ever dared to rile her up that much.

Ben’s touch is gentle but efficient. Wade can’t tell if it’s because Ben wants to get this over with as fast as possible, or if he’s aware that Wade is now being pelted with icy cold water. Either way, Wade is happy to get out of the shower quickly.

Even with the surprise cold shower, Wade is tired and the kid looks almost asleep on his feet as he dries himself off, so Wade grabs the towel and does it for him. He’s man enough to admit he likes being able to manhandle Ben a little bit. It’s not something he’s ever gotten to do, at least not before killing someone, and definitely not in an intimate way like this.

Getting to take care of someone else feels nice, too. Even if that someone is being grumpy about it. Maybe especially because that someone is grumpy about it. The way Ben glowers sleepily at him when Wade shoves a toothbrush slathered with way too much toothpaste into his hand is priceless. He grabs his own toothbrush and crowds the smaller man by the sink, just because he can.

By the time they’re stumbling out of the bathroom, Wade has decided that Ben is too exhausted to safely get home. And he paid the boy a shitload of money, so logically he still has a few hours left. With that impeccable reasoning, Wade grabs his unwitting houseguest and flops into bed with him held securely in his arms. It’s a bit of a struggle to get them under the blankets, but Wade Wilson is not a famous mercenary for nothing.

“Uhm, Deadpool?” Ben sounds concerned, and he feels stiff in Wade’s arms.

“Just sleep,” Wade mumbles into his hair, pulling Ben closer and forcing him to relax into the hold. He’s too tired to explain further, and he’s not going to argue. They both need sleep. So, they’re both getting sleep.

-

At some point, Wade feels Ben shifting around.

“ ‘S just a bad dream,” he mumbles, using the arm he has slung over the smaller man to pull him back flush to Wade’s chest. “Go back to sleep,” he whispers in Ben’s ear. He nuzzles gently at his neck before falling back into slumber himself.

-

Wade wakes up first, thankfully. It’s maybe a little embarrassing that he dragged a prostitute into bed to literally sleep with him, but he doesn’t regret it. Not when he looks this cute, burritoed up in Wade’s blankets, curly hair in disarray. Wade feels a pang of guilt that it isn’t Vanessa, but there’s no way she would be upset at the sight of such a cute boy in what should have been her spot. She’d probably have high-fived him.

He spots the boy’s clothes, forgotten in a sad pile on the bathroom floor and a plan begins to take shape. It’s not a good plan. In fact, it’s probably a terrible plan, probably the worst idea he’s had since tucking a prostitute into his bed. Wade snatches the clothes. They’re tossed into the washing machine and covered with soap before he can really think through all the reasons why this is an awful idea and starts the cycle.

Pancakes will ease the conversation. He’ll think of something exceptionally charming and smooth to say and they’ll have pancakes together and Ben will not be at all weirded out.

Wade hopes. 

The noise of it wakes the kid with a start. Reason one why it was a terrible idea, but Wade’s completely committed now, so there’s no use in regretting it.

“Hey there, baby boy,” Wade grins. The baby boy in question’s eyes widen for just a second before his face slides into an easy, pleasant expression.

“Morning.” His sweetie’s voice is just a little bit husky. It does things to Wade.

“I’m just about to make pancakes,” he says as casually as possible. “Do you like banana or chocolate chip, or are you more of an original recipe kind of guy?”

Ben- his name isn’t Ben, Wade’s gotta find out his real name, and soon- is slipping out of the bed and making a beeline for the bathroom, “I’m fine. I’ve gotta go, thanks.”

“I put your clothes in the wash,” Wade informs his increasingly grumpy and cute houseguest.

“Why would you do that?” The kid seems halfway between confused and angry. Another reason this plan is bad. But also maybe not, because he’s still here instead of rushing out the door in soiled pants.

“They were pretty raunchy, sweetheart,” Wade smirks and walks into the kitchen area to pull out the ingredients for pancakes. He has a box mix in his cupboards somewhere, but his grumpy boy deserves the best. From scratch it is. “I’m going to go with chocolate chips. I don’t even have bananas, so I don’t know why I offered that in the first place.”

He does have chocolate chips though. Like, seven or eight bags. He vaguely remembers stealing them from his marks for a bit there, though he’s not entirely sure why. He decides to mix up the batter at the island, so he can face Ben while he works.

“Deadpool,” The boy’s voice is flat, now, and he looks legitimately upset where he stands naked in the middle of Wade’s apartment.

“It’s Wade, actually,” he replies lightly, unsure of how to defuse the situation he’s created.

“Wade,” the kid repeats, voice tight. “Why are you doing this?”

It’s a good question. Why _is_ he doing this?

“You look like you need a real meal. Skittles and soda aren’t what growing boys need,” he goes with the first thing that comes to mind as he starts measuring the flour, sugar, and baking powder into the bowl. Dry ingredients first, then whisk it so everything is evenly distributed.

“What are you hoping to get out of this?” His baby boy’s got his arms crossed over his chest. He’s strikes a surprisingly intimidating figure, despite his smaller stature and current nudity.

“Breakfast with a cutie?” Wade tries. It doesn’t seem to amuse his guest at all, but he doesn’t seem any angrier, so that’s something. He takes a minute to consider as he adds the eggs, oil, and milk. With pancakes, you don’t want to overmix. That’s how they end up gluey.

“Look,” Wade finally breaks the silence. “I’m not…I’m not totally sure. I didn’t know what I wanted when I asked you to come home with me last night, either. I’m just…” he shrugs, unwilling to go right in and pour out his trauma just yet. Talking about it will defeat the whole purpose of trapping the boy here for breakfast. The chocolate chips go in last. Enough for good flavor, but not so many that they end up a melted, burning-chocolate mess in the pan. He’s made that mistake before.

The display of vulnerability seems to mollify his boy somewhat, because he drops his arms and stalks over to grab a t-shirt from the clean clothes basket. Wade’s impressed- sometimes he has a hard time telling which one is dirty and which is clean, and he lives here.

“I’m not eating pancakes with you naked,” the kid grumbles and pulls it on.

As much as Wade appreciated having him walk around his apartment naked, this is better. The shirt is so large on his frame that it reaches the tops of his thighs. He makes his way over and slides onto one of the stools across from Wade, and it makes something in his chest tighten. It feels so, so right.

Ben’s still clearly pissed at being stuck here, but that doesn’t matter, because he’s wearing one of Wade’s shirts, hair a glorious tangle from sleep, while Wade makes him pancakes. It doesn’t matter if this morning is going to be hellishly awkward, because now Wade knows that he’s going to have Ben back here, waiting for him to make breakfast again.

“Looking good, Baby Boy,” he smiles and puts his biggest pan on the burner.

“Sweetheart, baby boy, ‘call me Wade’,” His grumpy boy grumbles a little bit while watching Wade start frying the pancakes. “Did I wake up in an episode of Black Mirror or something? Is there going to be some lesson about the dangers of technology?”

“I think Twilight Zone would fit this situation better,” Wade replies over his shoulder. “Or are you too young to know what the Twilight Zone is?”

“I’ve watched Twilight Zone,” Ben shoots back defensively. “There’s that one where the Earth is getting too close to the sun and everything starts melting, then it turns out the lady was dreaming and the Earth was actually getting too far away from the sun and everything was too cold. And that one about all the characters in the giant cylinder and it turns out that they’re just toys.”

“Two whole episodes,” Wade whistles. “I’m impressed, baby boy. You’re very well cultured.”

“And you,” he narrows his eyes at Wade, “are kind of a jerk.”

Unable to refute the claim, Wade shrugs. He’s relieved his sweetie doesn’t seem to be as angry now. Once he’s got food in his belly and clean clothes, he’ll be glad he stayed a little longer, even if he won’t admit it. Awkward pancakes are far better than a walk of shame.

The silence stretches between them again. Wade’s not entirely sure what he can say without scaring the boy away, and his guest doesn’t seem that intent on making conversation. It’s probably just his imagination, but Wade thinks that the atmosphere is just a touch less awkward now.

“Voila. Do you want butter? Syrup?” Wade starts rooting around in the fridge for both. “Sorry the butter’s gonna be hard, but the maple syrup is fantastic. Grade B. The good shit.”

“Grade B? Doesn’t that mean it’s worse?”

“Nope. See, this is why we need to get everyone together and come up with a consistent rating scale for these things. Did you know that OSHA just reversed its numerical danger scale?” Wade sets the stick of butter, still in the paper and the bottle of maple syrup down on the island.

“Very interesting,” His sweetie says, unperturbed. “Do you have forks? Or is that out of style now? Is it like eating pizza with a fork, and no one bothered to inform me?”

“Nah,” Wade pulls open his chronically disorganized silverware drawer and grabs a fork. “I just forgot to give you one. But you can eat pancakes however you like, baby boy.”

His reluctant breakfastmate plucks the offered fork from Wade’s fingers, then proceeds to drown his pancakes in syrup. Wade would say that it’s because the kid’s really a sweetie despite his sourpuss affectation, but it’s more likely that he’s using the syrup as a lubricant so he can slide as many pancakes down his throat as possible. Wade can’t look away. It’s like watching a lion devouring its prey in some David Attenborough narrated documentary.

“These are really good,” His hungry boy compliments him after laying waste to the sizable pile.

“Only the best for you. More?” He may have to make another batch of batter at this rate.

“Water,” Ben replies, shaking his head.

“Sure thing. Tap okay?” Wade grabs the least-cloudy glass he can find and starts filling it.

“Yeah, thanks.”

The kid sips at the water daintily, as if that can somehow erase the memory of the absolute slaughter of the pancakes. There’s a little syrup on one corner of his mouth. Rather than resist the urge, Wade leans forward when his sweetie sets the glass down to kiss it off.

The boy freezes for a moment, then relaxes, though he doesn’t make any attempt to deepen the kiss. Wade pulls back, worried that _this_ is what totally crosses the line.

“Morning breath,” the kid says by way of explanation when they part.

“You’ve got a toothbrush, if you want,” Wade shrugs. “Toothpaste is right by the sink.”

The statement must bother his baby boy somehow, because he frowns and looks away. “Right, yeah. I think the wash cycle is done, so…” he trails off as he heads towards the bathroom. When he steps just right, Wade can see the crease of his perky little ass.

He kind of wants to tell his sweetie that he doesn’t have a dryer, but he’s pretty sure the kid would run away screaming if he pushed it that far. Wade rolls up a pancake and shoves it in his mouth before putting the clothes in the dryer. He never bothers with forks when he eats pancakes.

Ben hums something around the toothbrush as he vigorously scrubs his teeth. The tune is vaguely familiar. Some pop song, and Wade’s usually good at identifying those, but this one is eluding him.

“Whatcha humming?” He finally asks. It’s going to bother him all day otherwise.

The kid pulls out the toothbrush and spits, wiping his mouth before continuing the tune, “God money, I’ll do anything for you!”

Wade gapes in horror, because no. That’s not right, that’s not how that’s supposed to sound. “What has your generation done to that song?! You’ve murdered it. Desecrated its corpse! The only acceptable cover of a Nine Inch Nails song is by Johnny Cash!”

The boy just laughs at him and slips away when Wade tries to grab his shoulders in mock-outrage. Wade gives a playful growl, then turns to swipe at him again. It turns into a full chase when his sweetie manages to evade him again. The kid is shockingly slippery, managing to just barely keep out of Wade’s grasp, even when he starts seriously trying to catch him.

By the time the buzzer on the dryer goes off, they’re both giggling, panting messes sprawled out on the floor. Maybe throwing Ben’s clothes in the wash wasn’t the worst idea.

Wade had hoped that he might want to stay for a bit after his clothes were dry, but the boy hops up before the obnoxious alarm is even done, and dresses himself with a near professional efficiency.

“Thanks for breakfast, Wade,” he says, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the chase.

“Anytime.” Wade smiles, standing up to walk his sweetie to the door.

“No,” his baby boy smiles at him, but there’s something off about his expression. “It was fun, but you really can’t do this again.

The rejection hits Wade harder than he thought it would.

Seeing the hurt expression on Wade’s face, the boy gives him a gentle kiss.

“Bye Wade, I’ll see you tonight?” he balls up the shirt he’d borrowed and throws it at him.

Nodding, he watches as the kid almost skips out of the apartment.

He wanted to see Wade again. He’d admitted that he’d had fun. Of course it would take more than one morning to win his soon-to-be sweetheart over. Unable to keep himself from smiling, Wade pulls on the shirt his baby boy had thrown at him.

He’s going to _Sister Margaret’s_ tonight. He’s got a date.

-

His sweetie is at the bar, speaking animatedly with Weasel when Deadpool arrives at _Sister Margaret’s_. The kid looks like he’s been busy, if the absolute tangled mess that is his hair and open packet of Skittles are any indication.

“No, no,” the kid is laughing at something Weasel just said. “Cap and Winter Soldier all the way. I could die a happy man if I could get one night with the two of them.”

Wade is suddenly very interested in this conversation.

“I thought your little fantasy was banging Hawkeye?” Weasel asks as he hands another patron a beer.

“That’s not a fantasy,” His baby boy asserts as Wade settles down onto the stool next to him. “And the goal isn’t to fuck him, it’s to match with him on Grindr. Duh.”

Weasel rolls his eyes, then turns to Wade, “Benny here is convinced Hawkeye is on those hookup apps. He’s determined to match with him.”

Hearing Weasel say that name, Wade resolves not to use it again. He’s not going to entertain his sweetie’s little fantasy that he can make Wade happy with less than the real deal.

He needs a stand in, though. Something to fit his cute, kinda saucy baby boy.

“I’m totally going to get him. It’s like finding a cryptid. A dating app cryptid,” Bean grumps.

Yeah, that’ll work. Beans are tiny and cute and you can get them really saucy. Wade also likes to eat them both up.

“’Tis the season for cryptid sightings, I guess,” Weasel shrugs.

“The season for cryptid sightings?” Wade asks, nonplussed.

His little bean looks amused as he turns to face Wade head on, revealing that his oversized black shirt for the night has a Ouija board print. “It’s October, the season of weird shit and poorly costumed roleplay.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. You gonna run around as an underwear kitten?” Wade gives him an exaggerated once-over.

Upon closer inspection, his boy is even more roughed up than Wade had originally thought. It’s not just his hair that’s in disarray- there’s a purple splotch along his jaw, and another one peeking out from underneath his ridiculous little red neck scarf.

The bruises make Wade strangely uncomfortable. He doesn’t want anyone marking up that perfect skin. Or maybe he doesn’t want anyone else marking his boy up, because now he wants to cover those marks with some of his own. Not that that would help. The next day there would be more evidence of some other asshole touching his little bean. Because that’s what the kid does. He lets people touch him and mark him up so he can pay his bills and feed himself.

The occasional marks and reminders that other people got to touch Ness never really bothered Wade. As soon as he’d seen her, he’d known he didn’t want to be just another ‘client’ to her. He’d made sure to establish something deeper before they’d ever had sex. He’d always known that even if she shared her body with others, her heart belonged with him.

“Pssshhhh, I have _way_ more class than that,” His sweetie smirks, then tosses back a few Skittles as if that doesn’t immediately disprove his point. The act reveals more bruises hiding under his scarf.

“How about sexy Deadpool, then?” Wade suggests. And maybe he screwed up by screwing this boy last night. Maybe he should have approached him more like he approached Ness, but he hadn’t _known_.

“I was leaning more towards Black Widow, since, you know, that’s sexy by default,” he shrugs, “but I could be persuaded to consider other options.” And yeah, his baby dressed up in a tight black little number would be hot as hell. Wade briefly wonders if he could get a weaker version of the Black Widow Bite for added authenticity and fun. But as hot as seeing him dressed up as Prettypool?

“Persuaded how?”

“Perhaps you could model this ‘sexy Deadpool’ costume for me?” His sweetie looks a little too pleased with himself at this suggestion. Maybe he thinks it’ll get Wade to back down, or maybe he’s genuinely interested in seeing Wade in the proposed costume.

Wade certainly isn’t about to back down.

“Most def. We’ll have to discuss the details, of course.” Wade notices Buck over his boy’s shoulder, looking like he’s building up the confidence to approach. Wade’s reluctant to let him run off with the other man, so he grasps for a way to continue the conversation, “For instance, what features to include? How far can we deviate while still retaining the essence of ‘Deadpool’? I’m thinking there needs to be some fishnets and a garter-belt.”

“I don’t know,” his baby boy taps a finger to his lip. “I’m loathe to give up the skintight leather pants. Maybe we could get rid of some of the pouches? They’d ruin my waistline.”

Skintight leather pants are tempting, but what Wade really wants to see is, “I was thinking a mini-skirt, to be honest.”

“Body-con or pleated?” he looks intrigued, now. Which is perfect, because Buck is getting up, and Wade has no intention of letting him proposition his boy.

“Hmmmm. I could be persuaded either direction. We should continue this discussion over tacos.” He’s so smooth sometimes, he could probably be used as a belt-sander. But it’s the first thing he can think of to get his sweetie out of _Sister Margaret’s_ without it totally being a sex thing.

“Tacos?” Thankfully, his Beanie baby- hah! That totally works!- doesn’t look fully opposed to the suggestion.

“Billable hours, of course,” Wade smiles and pulls out a few fifties, holding them just within his baby boy’s reach. Buck pauses when the money emerges, finally catching on that the kid was going to be spending the rest of his time with _Wade_ , thank-you very much.

His baby eyes the money for a second before snatching it and shoving it into a pocket.

“Let’s go get some tacos.”

-

Wade settles on a little joint that’s only a few blocks away. They have his second favorite tacos, and his absolute favorite people there. The couple that owns the place are adorable, and they do a terrible job of remembering to change the lightbulbs in one corner. They’re always happy to see him, even when he clearly just got done with a messy job. It may have something to do with the time he tied some assholes who was yelling about ‘the wall’ upside down from the top of a light-post. He kind of wishes it was out of the goodness of his heart, but he’d really just been hangry and they had been holding up the line in their ill-advised attempt to get free food.

They also take the same stance on describing their dishes as they do their lightbulb maintenance, which is to say- they don’t do it. The menu is just a phenomenally non-descriptive list of tacos. They don’t even list the ingredients in the name. It’s fucking hilarious, and Wade has no idea how they manage to stay open, except that the food is usually delicious if you don’t have any dietary restrictions to watch for.

“What looks good, Bean?” Wade asks his very confused companion as they look at a menu that just lists letters and prices. They have 33 tacos, named A through AG.

“What the hell, Wade?” his baby boy looks between him and the menu, trying to discern whether it’s a joke.

Wade felt similarly his first time, too.

“I’ll do the ordering,” Wade informs him, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“Well I’ll have as much say in what I get either way,” his grumpy baby boy scoffs as he gives the menu one last once-over, as if anything helpful will suddenly appear on the page. Sadly, the grease-stained menus are not the Marauder’s Map.

“Alright!” Wade claps his hands together. “How about you secure us that spot,” he points to a heavily shadowed booth. The lack of light makes it harder for people to stare at him, and besides, it helps set the mood.

His sweetie glances over to Wade’s preferred spot, which is admittedly sketchy.

“Sounds good,” he shrugs and ambles over.

Wade’s not sure it is good, though. He’s worried as he places the order. His sweetie seems a little irritated, it usually takes people a little longer to get there when they’re first exposed to the glory that is Deadpool. They have to get over their pants-shitting fear first, after all. Maybe he’s being too much? If he backs off too much, though, his baby boy will just go to other men. He’s got to keep his sweetie’s attention, but in a good way.

So he’s got to change his approach, and make it less about himself and more about his grumpy boy. After all Wade’s used to seeing people withdraw when he gets too into his own feelings. Wade can do this, though, he just needs to get his baby boy relaxed and talking.

“Hey there, baby boy,” Wade greets as he slides into his seat.

“Hey there, Wade,” is the sleepy response. He must have either let his guard down enough to let on that he’s tired, or he’s so tired he can’t keep it up. Either way, it works out in Wade’s favor, even if it does make him feel a little bit guilty.

“I’ve been wondering something. Would you mind indulging my curiosity?” Wade rests his chin on his hand and leans in, carefully projecting a relaxed body language.

“Maybe? Depends on what you’re curious about,” His baby boy shrugs.

“Aside from picking up handsome strangers from extremely sketchy bars, what do you like to do?”

“What do I do for fun, huh? I don’t know why it would matter to you.”

“Your hobbies could totally lead to some wild sex,” Wade grins, but silently curses himself even as he says it. So much for not making it about himself. “Also I’m just curious, you seem like a fun guy.”

“Okay...I, uhm,” His baby boy looks a little embarrassed. “I do a little photography. Super basic, I know, but it’s fun.”

“Oh, do you have like a website where you post sexy selfies?” Wade asks, very interested in finding it. Even if he totally fucks this up, at least he’ll be able to save something to his hard drive to keep him warm at night.

“What?” his little bean looks baffled.

“Like...camming? Is that what it’s called? Although that would be more video. Do you post porn of yourself for profit?” That’s about as crystal clear as he can get.

“Wh-what?” his baby boy actually stutters, as if that’s somehow more scandalous than giving blowjobs in an alley. “No! I take, like, cityscapes and closeups of interesting bugs and plants. Sometimes I’ll take pictures for friends when they want something for their Insta or Tinder.”

“Tinder? Then you totally know how to take sexy pictures! Think of all the good you could do with erotic selfies,” Wade is determined to convince his baby boy that this is totally a great idea.

“What good would sexy selfies do?”

“Think of all the joy you’d bring to men like myself. Specifically myself, really. You don’t even have to post them online, you could just send them straight to me. I’d pay.”

“I’m not giving you any contact information,” his baby says, getting a little grumpy. Too bad. “And I’m definitely not doing that. The woman who raised me got me my first camera when I was eleven; I think about her whenever I’m taking pictures.”

“Could be kinky,” Wade grins. His Bean wrinkles his nose in disgust.

The woman who raised him? So he didn’t grow up with his parents. Or at the very least, they weren’t in the picture. Interesting.

“I’m pretty sure I would have just destroyed a camera at that age,” Wade comments.

“It was a cheap digital one,” he shrugs again. “But it was, I don’t know. Fun? Distracting? I was really messed up, and it helped. She taught me how to take less shitty pictures. She says it’s a good way for me to ‘share with other people what I see and how I feel’, which I think sounds kinda hokey, but it’s a little true I guess.”

“Oh my gawd,” Wade crows, “You’re, like, an _artist_! A _starving artist_ , even!”

“Fuck you,” his baby boy is blushing again. “I totally got art awards for my shit. There were ceremonies and checks. It was legit. Plus I got asked by girls to do photoshoots for them. Which would have been pretty sweet if I wasn’t gay, but you know. Whatever. It was fun. I had this one friend who kept getting me to break into restricted areas with her for ‘photoshoots’. We almost got arrested a few times,” he smiles at the memory.

The arrival of the food gives Wade a moment to stop and consider what he should do next. The photography is a nice ‘in’, even if he doesn’t get any nudes out of it, or at least immediate nudes. He’s pretty sure he’ll be able to haggle for them eventually, but he doesn’t want to push his luck too fast.

“So now it’s your turn to answer a question.”

It’s fair, and it makes Wade a little happy that his boy is treating this as a give and take rather than a one-way transaction. Progress.

“Go for it,” Wade tries not to sound too happy about it.

“Did you call me ‘bean’ earlier?”

“Yup.”

“ _Why?_ ”

It’s as good an opening as any, really. “Well, I know ‘Ben’ isn’t your real name, and I don’t wanna call you by a stage name- alley name? Bar name? Whatever, I don’t want to call you by that, so it’s all nicknames until I learn the real deal.”

His grumpy bean pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Of course. But why ‘bean’? Like, are you referencing cat toes or Ender’s Game?”

“Nah, more like Beanie Baby. Cause you’re cute, but also really expensive, and everyone wants to collect you and keep you on their shelf.”

That last part is maybe not the best thing to admit to a callboy who seems lukewarm at best about Wade, but he can’t really unsay the words.

“Well that’s not creepy as fuck.”

“It isn’t, really,” Wade shrugs it off as casually as possible. “Hyperbole, and it’s not like I’d ever do that to you. But somebody might want to. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“Thanks,” his baby replies dryly.

It’s kind of a conversation stopper, which is uncomfortable. He picks at his food, mostly watching his grumpy sweetie put it away like a trash compactor. As much as Wade wants to fill the silence, he’s not sure what he can say that won’t make things worse.

“The food is really good,” is a mercifully extended olive branch. Wade seizes it like he hasn’t seen land for forty days and forty nights.

“Yeah, they’re one of my favorite restaurants! Second best tacos in the city, and that is no mean feat. They’re mostly number two because I can’t always remember the letters for the ones I like and the ones I don’t, so I end up ordering the wrong thing a lot.”

That gets a little laugh out of his sweetie. “Yeah, I can see that being an issue. Do you know why they have such a shitty menu?”

“No clue,” Wade replies honestly. “It’s more funny than it is irritating, and I don’t want to see them change it, so I haven’t asked.”

“It is a little funny,” his baby boy concedes, and suddenly they’re talking like normal human beings. It fills Wade up better than any tacos, not that he’d admit that out loud.

There’s even minimal pouting when his baby boy learns that Wade already paid for everything, including the tip. He argues that they didn’t talk business, but Wade maintains that it was an important business meeting. And since he’s already paid and conveniently ‘lost’ the receipt, he wins that argument easily.

“Just the tip, Wade!” his sweetie whines at him playfully.

Wade is barely able to hold strong and refuse his sweetie’s begging to pay _something_.

It’s almost bar close when they leave the restaurant, happy and full. Wade wraps an arm around his sweetheart’s waist as he guides them back in the approximate direction of _Sister Margaret’s_ , though he has no real intention of returning. His baby boy leans into him, content, and Wade’s heart soars.

“Well, that was fun,” he says as they slowly amble down the sidewalk. “11/10, excellent date. Would definitely do again.”

His sweetheart gives a little twitch at that, then pulls away from Wade. “Mmmm, I don’t think we’re done though,” he has a strange expression on his face as he grabs Wade’s hand and tugs him into an alley.

“What’re you thinking, baby boy?” Wade asks as he’s pushed against the wall behind a dumpster, which hides them from the road.

“I think you’ll get the picture soon enough,” his baby murmurs as he fumbles with Wade’s belt for a moment before getting it out of the way. He drops to his knees as he tugs Wade’s pants and boxers down his thighs in one smooth motion. The suddenness of it makes Wade sympathize for the kid’s knees, but his sweetie doesn’t seem to be feeling any pain.

It takes approximately two tugs of a silky-smooth hand and one kiss to the head of his cock to get Wade fully hard. He groans, leaning back against the crumbling wall, one hand making its way to his sweetheart’s soft curls as soft lips close around him.

“Shit,” Wade pants as his baby works at him with his mouth and hand. “You don’t have to, baby boy.”

His clever bean just hums around him and takes him a little bit deeper, head bobbing persistently. It’s good. So, so good, even though something about it is bothering Wade. He didn’t really want to drag his sweetie into some dingey alley to get a blowjob, but he figures it’s okay if his boy decided to initiate it.

He jerks when his baby boy’s tongue swipes out to lap at what doesn’t fit in his mouth, making him gag a little as Wade suddenly hits the back of his throat.

“Fuck, sorry,” Wade pants. His darling boy doesn’t pull away, though. In fact, he raises one hand to rest on Wade’s where it rests on the back of his head and presses down on it. The other is wrapped around his cock to keep it from being able to go too far.

“Do you- do you want me to-” Wade gives a shallow, gentle thrust, watching in fascination as those lovely lips stretch around him. His sweetheart makes an affirmative noise and nods his head, just a little. It makes Wade groan and he starts pushing in and out of the soft, wet heat, holding his baby boy’s head in place with his hand clenched in soft curls. He traces soft cheeks with the other, feeling them fill and hollow as he moves. His sweetheart’s hand closed around his base keeps Wade from gagging him, so he lets himself go faster and harder.

The sound of it is obscene, and his baby’s making little noises around him. He’s relaxed as he lets Wade take his mouth, looking up with hazy, half-closed eyes. It’s that _look_ that finally pushes Wade over the edge, grunting and pressing as close as he can.

He’s still coming down when his favorite boy in the whole world slides out of his grip and stands. He isn’t even a little wobbly on his feet after that, Wade notes with appreciation.

“See you, Deadpool,” his sweetie tosses over his shoulder as he walks away, leaving Wade in the alley.

“It’s Wade,” Wade pants and struggles to right his clothes while he catches his breath.

-

Wade is silently furious.

Not because he’d been left with his pants around his ankles in a piss-stained alley. He’d been just fine with that. Obviously his grumpy, secretive boy didn’t want to let him know where he lived yet. Running home while Wade recovered from sex was a great way to ensure he wasn’t followed. A pleasant ending to a nice date.

He’s furious because right now he’s sitting on a roof watching his baby boy jerk off some biker- Lenny, short for Leonard, he thinks- behind _Sister Margaret’s._ He’s pretty sure he’s seen the man get into fights over being called his birth name.The larger man is leaning, his weight mostly supported by his boy as Wade’s sweetheart quickly strips his cock. The grunts Leonard is emitting are downright gross, just like everything else about him. No wonder his boy is only using his hand. Either that or the scumbag couldn’t afford more.

Honestly, his baby boy shouldn’t even be bothering with this. Wade is more than happy to give his grumpy sweetheart all the money he could possibly need. But instead of waiting for him at the bar, or coming up to him after he arrived, his grumpy bean has resolutely ignored him all night.

Leonard is the fifth man he’s run off with since Wade arrived. At first, he’d been worried. Maybe someone had warned his baby boy away from him. He’d been trying to figure out all the ways to protect his sweet little baby boy, to kill whoever was threatening him, when they’d made eye contact. His baby was being dragged by some lowlife towards the men’s bathroom, and when their eyes met for just a second, his boy had given him just the smallest hint of a _smirk_.

His sweetheart is ignoring him on purpose. If it’s to piss Wade off, well, mission fucking accomplished.

They’d had such a nice date last night, and now his pissy sweetheart’s determined to shit all over it. Wade shouldn’t be surprised, really. It makes a twisted sort of sense. He’d as good as admitted he was bad at expressing his feelings when he’d talked about his photography.

But having childhood trauma doesn’t excuse his boy from the consequences of his actions. No, after he’s gotten this pathetic slug off, they’re going to have a _chat._ Wade had tried, between partners three and four, then between four and five, but his baby had managed to avoid it. His grumpy boy had to know that it would only serve to make Wade angrier, unless he’s foolish enough to think he can get away from him entirely. As if it’s that easy to escape from Deadpool when he’s on a mission.

The last straw for dear Lenny is when Wade’s sweetie whispers something in his ear and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. It would look almost tender, except that that’s _Wade’s_ boy touching some overgrown rutabaga of a man. Instead it’s just gross. The man makes a truly pathetic noise when he finishes, then fumbles with his zipper before stumbling back towards the bar.

His sweetheart is wiping his hand off with what looks like a wet wipe when Wade jumps down behind him.

His baby boy jumps and whirls around, just before he can push the smaller man into the wall. It’s not enough to escape completely though, so Wade just advances and cages his boy in with his arms. The smaller man is trying to look angry and indignant, but his obvious fear is undercutting it. Good.

Leaning forward so he is face to face with his darling, he hisses “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, baby boy?”

“Working,” oh, he’s trying to sound tough but there’s a little quiver in his voice.

“Mmm,” Wade says, as if considering the answer. “But see, that doesn’t really make sense, now does it?”

“Excuse me?” His boy is trying to shrink back and slide under one of Wade’s arms, and that just won’t do.

“It doesn’t make sense, because you know you could be making a lot more by coming to me,” Wade explains as he grabs the ends of the little red scarf that his darling always keeps tied around his neck. He pulls him in by it, so their faces are only inches apart.

“So. What the _fuck do you think you’re doing_ , baby boy?” he growls.

“Fuck off!” His grumpy baby pulls back as far as the scarf will let him. “It’s none of your business.”

Wade opens his mouth to reply but is promptly cut off. “What I do, who I do, is not your concern. _At all!_ ” He’s getting worked up now, and he knocks Wade’s hands away, pressing forward and forcing Wade to take a half step back. “You think, what, you can _force_ me to stay the night with you, _steal_ my clothes so I can’t leave when I want to, then drag me out on what you’ve decided is a _date_. That you have a say in my life? That you’re my _boyfriend_?”

The thing is, his sweetheart has a point, and that makes Wade angrier. When he doesn’t immediately respond, his baby boy starts trying to push Wade back further. He’s never liked it when people tried to push him around. It’s not something that happens much these days, not since he grew up. Even less since Weapon X. The only reason Wade doesn’t pull his gun and put him in his place is because he’s Wade’s baby boy. He’s so much smaller, he really isn’t even a threat. Still, it pisses him off that his baby boy thinks he can just push Wade away, figuratively or literally. So, Wade grabs a handful of his boy’s oversized shirt and pushes him firmly back against the wall.

His boy’s eyes go wide when his back slams against the wall, harder than Wade had intended. He takes a couple deep breaths to try to find the right words, to be calm, _reasonable_. “If that’s the way you felt, why didn’t you _tell_ me? Why did you run away and try to piss me off?” His voice is tight, but he isn’t yelling, which is something.

“How?” His sweetie looks up at him, shrugging helplessly. “Would you even listen?”

Wade stares at him incredulously. Of _course_ he would listen if his baby told him he wanted Wade to back off.

Except he didn’t, did he? Not when he’d tried to leave that first night. Wade tried to make up for that with their taco night, but if his sweetheart felt like he was duped into a ‘date’ with Wade…

“Fine. I’m listening,” Wade drops him and backs away.

It’s his baby boy’s turn to stare, this time. He straightens himself out slowly, watching warily as Wade reaches into his pocket.

“For your time,” he grunts, shoving the cash into sweetie’s chest. “Don’t try to avoid me anymore.”

With that, Wade turns to leave. He’s not sure if his baby bothers to catch the money as he releases it and walks away.

-

He’s known the kid, what, three days now?

He thinks he’d fallen in love with Ness that fast, but he’s not entirely sure. Love at first sight, is how he remembers it. But he’d been more careful, then. Mostly because Vanessa emitted ‘back off’ vibes even stronger than the fucking Wolverine. And he hadn’t been Deadpool yet. If she’d decided to take his balls off for being too forward, then he’d have just had to make the best of his new status as a eunuch.

Worse yet, he can’t tell if it’s another case of ‘love at first sight’ or if he’s just desperate for anything to distract him. Maybe it’s not that he’s desperate to be with his baby boy so much as he’s desperate to not be alone.

Fuck, he doesn’t even know the object of his affection’s _name_.

Is he even the object of his affections? Or is he just the most recent and available target for his sex-drive?

Does it matter?

He’s been miserable for so fucking long, maybe he deserves to have this. Whatever it is. He likes how he feels around his baby boy, his spicy bean. He likes the way it feels to get off with him, but he really likes the way he feels when they talk and eat and tease each other.

That’s fair, right? He gets to be happy sometimes. Everybody deserves a little love, and all that, and while he blew it with Vanessa, he doesn’t deserve to be alone and miserable forever.

He deserves a second chance at having a partner. That’s what he really wants, he decides. His baby boy can’t just be the focus of his sex-drive, because he doesn’t just want sex with him. It’s obvious, really. He wants someone to make pancakes for and joke around with and tease just as much as he wants a warm body pressed against his.

Wade gets to be happy sometimes. And if being happy means striking up a relationship with a temperamental callboy, then that’s what it means. It’s not even that out there.

Wade just has to convince his spicy little bean to want it, too.

So yeah, maybe he’s been too forward. Moved a little too fast. His sweetie has a little bit of bite, but he’s more like a cornered kitten compared to Vanessa’s bristling Rottweiler. The persona Wade’s built up, his ability to just barrel into any situation without much in the way of forethought, works just fine when he’s storming some HYDRA base or tracking down human-experimenting fucks. It’s not ideal for wooing an antsy callboy.

Wade needs to apologize, back off a little, and hope he can fix this. Then, he’ll be able to move forward and win over his baby boy. It’s a better plan than stealing his pants and keeping him prisoner, at least.

-

He runs into his first complication when his baby boy doesn’t show up for the next two nights. He worries, first that he managed to scare the kid away completely, and then that the kid is in some sort of trouble and needs help.

Weasel reassures him that this is pretty normal for his beanie baby, but that doesn’t help the knot of anxiety in Wade’s gut. It’s ridiculous; he’s known the kid for less than a week, but he doesn’t want to lose him. If his sweetie disappears entirely, he’s certain he’ll slip back into his post-Ness depression. Probably worse.

At least he’s become more certain about his feelings for his baby boy. A few other prostitutes, both male and female, approach him. They’d seen him with his sweetie, they said, and were happy to keep him company while the boy was gone. None of them seem concerned about his absence, and they all seem certain he’d return, too, so that was something. One of them has the same build as his baby boy, and slightly longer chestnut curls, but Wade has no desire to take this one home.

There is even one that resembles Vanessa. Like, a lot. They could probably be, not sisters, but first cousins or something. Wade talks to her for a while and she’s funny enough, but it becomes increasingly clear to them both that he has no real interest in her services, so she takes off.

-

The third night, his sweetie is standing by the bar when Wade arrives. He’s holding an icy glass full of orange soda up to one temple, and he gives Wade a lazy smile and wave. It’s a relief – both his presence and the fact that he’s apparently happy to see him. Wade’s not sure he trusts that, but at least his sweetheart doesn’t seem totally furious with him. Hopefully it isn’t because he’s scared to be anything but friendly after their last conversation.

“Hey there, baby boy.”

“Hey you,” his beautiful boy sets the glass down lethargically. He’s wearing his normal little scarf and a different oversized shirt with his jeans. Wade would comment on the lack of variety if it didn’t look so damn good on him.

“Look, about the other night, I wanted to apologize. I-”

“-Don’t worry about it,” his sweetheart interrupts, dismissive. “Let’s just forget about that, yeah?”

Wade doesn’t really want to let it go, but his eyes catch on the huge bruise on Ben’s shoulder, revealed only by the slide of his oversized shirt. Following Wade’s gaze, he tugs the shirt back into place.

“So, how can I help you this evening?” his baby boy gives him an obvious once-over.

“What’re you offering?” Wade asks, wanting to let his sweetheart set his boundaries.

“How about you tell me what you want, and I’ll give you a price or a ‘no’.”

“Come up to the roof with me?” he wants to talk alone, but taking his baby boy off the premises seems like a big no-no right now. Hopefully the roof will offer them some privacy while not looking too much like he’s trying to steal him away.

“$300,” the quirk of his lips make Wade think it’s a joke. “Anything additional will cost you extra.”

“Deal,” Wade agrees easily. His grumpy boy raises his eyebrows, then shrugs and downs half of his soda in one go. Wade thinks he can see a purple splotch on his temple, where the moisture of the glass must have taken off some concealer. Now that he looks closer, he can tell that the kid is wearing a bit of makeup. It seems unusual, but then, he’s only really seen his baby boy here three other nights.

Commenting on it would probably be interpreted as prying, so Wade keeps his mouth shut as he guides his sweetie back behind the bar.

“Are we even supposed to come back here?” he asks as he follows Wade up the stairs.

“It’s just Weasel’s apartment up here,” Wade shrugs. “So probably not, except I have special privileges. Seeing as we’re besties for life and all.”

His grumpy boy rolls his eyes when they climb out onto the fire escape and Wade lifts him up so he can reach the roof. Wade thought he might need a bit of help, but once he’s got ahold of the ledge, his sweetie pulls himself up easily.

Wade uses his grapple, rather than ask his little bean to try to lift his bulk. He’s pretty sure he’s got at least eighty pounds on the smaller man.

“Alright,” His sweetie says, walking the length of the roof and looking around. “We are officially on the roof. Any other plans, big guy?”

“I like you,” Wade admits, pacing and restless. He has no idea what to do, no idea how not to screw this up, but he can’t just...not do anything.

“Okay,” his sweetheart says slowly.

“I like you a lot and I don’t even know your name and that’s super frustrating,” Wade’s not terrible at expressing his feelings. He is terrible about expressing them in an appropriate manner, though.

“I’m not telling you my name just to make you feel better,” his grumpy boy crosses his arms.

“Will you let me guess?” Wade asks, because he’ll get it eventually. And it would be a little fun game, when he thinks back on the beginning of their relationship once Wade’s convinced his sweetie that he’s worthy of his love. Like a fairy tale, except with a lot more prostitutes and light pollution.

There’s a long pause, and then he hears “Fine,” which makes his heart stutter. “But only as, like, an add on. To my normal services.”

“Can cuddling be a normal service?” Wade asks, because as much as he wants to fuck his sweetheart, he wants to be allowed to hold him- to have him, really.

“Okay. Three hundred base pay, we can negotiate anything else. Like petting.”

“Even light petting?” Wade jokes weakly, inching towards his sweetheart.

“Especially light petting,” his grumpy boy asserts as Wade wraps his arms around him and sinks to his knees.

For all that he’d looked stiff, standing there on the roof, his sweetheart goes along with it easily, letting himself be cradled in Wade’s lap.

“Jessie,” Wade guesses, after he’s got everything arranged to his satisfaction. He used to hold Ness a lot like this. Not quite the same, because of the differences in weight and mass distribution, but it’s similar enough to be comforting.

“Is that a guess?” his baby boy huffs.

“Yup. So, Jessie?”

“No.”

“James.”

“Team rocket, blasting off to ‘no’.”

Wade smiles a little at that. It’s not a bad idea, taking names from characters. He’ll be able to keep track of what he has and hasn’t said much more easily this way, and it’ll be fun.

“Harry.”

“No.”

“Ron.”

“No.”

Seamus, Fred, George, Percy, and all the other Weasley boys are a no as well.

“James?”

“You’ve already said that, no,” he can feel his baby boy rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Sirius?”

“Are you seriously just going to list off the names of every Harry Potter character?” his grumpy boy twists around to glare up at him.

“That’s the plan,” Wade smiles and rests his hands on his baby boy’s waist.

“I’m going to limit you to two guesses a night,” his sweetie declares. “Any more will cost you. Like, a lot.”

“How much?” Wade is deeply amused at his baby boy’s attempt to lay down rules to Deadpool of all people.

“I don’t know. Enough to make you not do it.”

“That’s a lot, sweetheart. I need a number.”

His grumpy boy makes an angry little noise, then dives forward and plants his lips firmly against Wade’s.

It’s as wonderful as it is unexpected, and Wade’s not about to let this opportunity slip away.

The hot, wet slide of lips and tongues is making Wade reassess his priorities regarding cuddling versus sex. Especially now that he’s got a lap full of beautiful, wiggly boy.

When they break for air, he can’t help but whisper in his sweetheart’s ear “Remus?”

The outraged scream and subsequent assault on his mouth are totally worth it. Wade grins into the kiss as his grumpy boy nips at his lips harder than is necessarily pleasurable. They both groan a little when teeth break skin and Wade is bleeding into it.

There’s no way his baby boy lets himself be this uncontrolled with anyone else. He barely touches anyone else, beyond the bare minimum to get them off, and here he is, biting at Wade until he _bleeds_.

It’s not a name, but it’s a victory of a different sort, and Wade feels like celebrating. One hand pushes up the back of his sweetie’s oversized shirt so he can get a firm but gentle hold on that slender neck. The other goes down, under the waistband of both jeans and boxers, until he’s got a palm full of delightfully muscular ass.

His baby boy makes a questioning noise against where their lips are mashed together, not so much kissing now as just breathing in each other’s air. Wade responds with a rumbling noise of his own, then pushes his fingers a little deeper so he can give the muscle a satisfying squeeze.

His darling boy pulls back, just a little, panting heavily and watching Wade’s face. Wade’s watching him just as carefully, and it’s weirdly intense, to be this close and staring at each other like this. They’re frozen like that for a second, before Wade moves those last few centimeters and brushes his fingers against his baby boy’s hole.

The reaction is instant- his sweetheart’s face twists into something like discomfort, and he jolts away from Wade’s touch.

“Sorry,” Wade apologizes and immediately withdraws his hand entirely.

“No, it’s...it’s just,” his dear, sweet boy shakes his head as he looks for the right word. “A lot. It’s fine, though, you can…”

“I don’t want to do anything you won’t enjoy,” Wade cuts him off. Instead of reaching back for his ass, Wade reaches between them to undo the button and zip on his sweetie’s jeans. It’s a relief to find him still hard, and his sweetheart’s head drops forward onto Wade’s chest with a heavy exhale as fingers find the damp spot on his boxers.

Wade strokes his baby boy through his boxers until he’s whimpering and moving into the touch. The damp spot grows, and Wade wonders if he can get his sweetie to give him the underwear once he’s come in them, but he can make an exception this time. It’d be at least as good as pictures.

His baby boy is twitching, almost there, when he pulls himself back with a gasp.

“Wade,” he pants, breathless and all the more beautiful for it, “I want…” he trails off, in favor of doing whatever it is he’s after. Wade watches as his darling boy struggles with his clothes, tangling them around his legs and then managing to contort his way out of them in a truly impressive display of flexibility. His struggle with his shirt is comparatively brief, but no less enthralling. In the end, Wade is fully clothed with a lap full of naked boy, and he has to say he likes his baby boy’s style.

He’s only seen his baby boy naked once before, and that was in the shower, when they were both tired and done for the night. This is entirely different, and Wade feels slighted that he didn’t get to see it the first time. He’s determined to look his fill, especially given his first-row seat.

Finally, he’s forced to look elsewhere when his sweetheart gives him a quick kiss. He reaches down for Wade’s zipper, and brushes slim fingers against it while looking up at him with a question in his gaze. He doesn’t move to unzip him until Wade gives him a little nod, but he’s lightning fast as soon as he has permission.

Wade is honestly curious what his sweetheart has in mind when he takes Wade’s much larger hands in his own and makes them cup his ass.

He wiggles around so that Wade’s cock is nestled between his asscheeks and _oh_ , he can see where this is going, and he’s one hundred percent on board. Even so, he lets his baby boy make the first move so he can be sure of what he wants. Wade isn’t at all disappointed when he starts moving, as if he’s riding a cock for real.

The position must be awkward for him, though, and certainly too exhausting to continue for very long, so Wade takes his cue and grips his sweetheart’s ass more firmly as he starts bucking up underneath him. The motion makes his baby boy’s cock grind up against Wade’s abs, and from the shudder and moan that elicits, it must be very good for his sweetie.

It’s amazing. Maybe not as good as being inside his sweetheart, but a close second. The soft, yet well-toned muscles squeezing his cock are enough to make his mouth drop open in a groan, but even that has nothing on the sight of it. His baby boy naked and...and it looks like he’s taking him, and like he _loves_ it.

“Looks like you’re fucking yourself on me,” Wade pants, and his darling boy lets out a noise that sends a jolt straight through him. The slide gets better, slicker, the longer they go and Wade knows he’s got to be bruising his baby boy with how hard he’s gripping him.

“Wish I could,” he feels the admission tumble out of his sweetie’s lips, but he can’t feel bad about it right now.

“Wish you were,” is Wade’s gasped reply, and it’s enough to push him over the edge, so fast he cries out in surprise as he marks up his boy’s ass and back. It doesn’t take much longer for the smaller man to come with a whimper all over both of their chests and bellies.

It’s a good thing that leather is relatively easy to wipe clean.

Wade eases himself onto his back, pulling his sweetie down to lay on top of him, and they stay like that for a few long minutes. It doesn’t take Wade very long to recover physically, but mentally, that whole interaction was...kind of a lot.

Finally, his sweetheart pulls himself up and gives Wade another lingering kiss before he starts trying to wipe them both off with his own crumpled up underwear.

“Those aren’t going to be very comfortable,” Wade notes.

“I’ll just go without. I think I’m going to call it a night once we’re done, anyways.”

It’s said with a warmth that Wade doesn’t think has been directed at him in a long time.

“Are we going to do this again?” Wade asks, still flopped on his back. There’s a soft touch on his cock and he realizes he’s being wiped clean and tucked away. It’s weirdly intimate, almost more than what they just did.

“If you want,” his baby boy says around a yawn. “Maybe we can go to a hotel or something next time.”

“You could always come to my place,” Wade offers, finally sitting up on his elbows to watch as his sweetheart pulls his clothes back on.

“I’d prefer a hotel,” is the honest reply. “It feels like more neutral ground.”

“Alright,” Wade nods. “I can arrange that.”

“We’ll meet here, though,” his spicy little Bean announces. “I don’t have a burner phone and I’m not getting one just for you.”

Wade lets out a surprised laugh. His baby boy is a fucking weirdo.

He’s perfect.

-

Wade is, understandably, nervous the next evening. He already has the room keys for a hotel not far from the bar. It seemed like a better idea to do it ahead of time rather than make his grumpy boy sit around through the awkward process of checking in.

The thing is, he doesn’t even know if his sweetie is going to show up or not.

He’s half tempted to just buy the boy a phone himself, but given how emphatic he’s been about not letting Wade have any way to contact him, it might not be received well. That, and it would be easy to track where his sweetheart lives if he gives him a phone, but Wade has just enough self-restraint not to do that.

In theory.

Maybe an old fashioned pager would be acceptable. Or walkie talkies.

He’s seriously leaning towards the pager, given the more convenient size, when his sweetheart finally walks in. Wade tries, and fails, not to be smug when his baby boy makes a beeline towards him.

“So. You gonna call dibs or do you wanna wait a bit?” His sweetie asks, playing with the strap of his backpack.

“Dibs,” Wade replies. “Definitely dibs. I got us a room. Like you wanted.”

-

The room is, admittedly, not great. Wade had heavily debated trying to get somewhere nicer, but it would have required a ride in a cab, and he’s not sure how into that his grumpy boy would be. He might not want to go too far off site, so to speak. Although it probably doesn’t matter. He looks around the room again nervously. He should have gotten somewhere nicer.

Not that his companion seems to care. He’s already toeing off his shoes, pulling his shirt over his head as he does. Wade would probably fall over trying to do that, and he’s not a clumsy person. His sweetie must either have a lot of practice, or he’s just got exceptionally good balance.

“Sam?” Wade asks as soon as the shirt is off, making his baby boy’s hair stick up a little. He could totally be a Sam. He could call him Sammy; that would be cute.

“Nope!” is the bright reply.

“And I mean, like, all variations on Sam. I think that’s fair. So if you’re a Samuel or a Samwell or a Samwise, it totally counts.”

“Samwise?” the smaller man snorts. “Yeah, nope. No Sam variations here.”

“Damn,” Wade sighs, then gets to work yanking his own clothes off.

He loses the race to nudity, although he thinks that his baby boy is cheating, given his head start and the fact that he doesn’t bother to remove his neck scarf. Taking advantage of catching Wade with his pants literally around his knees, his sweetie leaps onto him, knocking Wade back onto the lumpy mattress.

“Got quite the hop in you, don’t you?” Wade huffs out a surprised laugh.

His sweetie looks very pleased with himself, smirking down at Wade from where he’s settled on all four over him.

“Got some secret bunny ancestry?” Wade asks, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s middle and pulling them flush.

“That was totally a pounce. Like a jumping spider,” his bunny boy pouts.

“Nope. It was definitely a hop. A very impressive bunny hop.”

His honey bunny - that one’s going to stick, Wade thinks with a cackle- slithers down and out of his arms, trying to settle himself between Wade’s legs. The tangle of clothes around his legs keeps it from working very well, making his baby boy grumble as he kisses and nips at Wade’s chest and abs and wiggles around to make it work. Wade is very okay with the way things are going; the wiggling as well as his baby’s lips on his body are definitely working for him, but then a clever foot manages to shove his pants the rest of the way off.

Wade only has a second to feel self-conscious of all the bared flesh as his sweetie slides the rest of the way down Wade’s body. He sits up a little to say something, or maybe cover himself, but stops short when they make eye contact.

It’s a lot harder to feel bashful when someone that looks like his sweetie is looking at him like _that._ For all that Wade insists it was a bunny hop, the expression on his baby boy’s face is absolutely predatory. It sends a shudder down his back to be the focus of the intense gaze. He isn’t sure if Ness ever looked at him like that-

He doesn’t want to be thinking about Ness right now.

“What’s with the red scarf?” Wade asks, to distract himself. His voice sounds weirdly strangled.

“Oh?” His bunny boy takes a second to process the question, then smiles sharply. “It’s mostly for hiding hickeys,” he admits, delicate-looking fingers flying to the knot and making quick work of it. Wade doesn’t really want to see the marks anyone else has left on him, but thankfully there aren’t any tonight.

“But,” Wade is surprised when those same delicate fingers latch onto his wrists and pull them above his head. “I keep it around for emergencies, you know, in case I have to restrain someone.” It’s unfair that his sweetie can sound so calm as he quickly wraps and ties the scarf around Wade’s wrists. Wade feels like he’s burning up. Like all his nerves are concentrated where his bunny boy’s cock is brushing against his chest and where slender fingers are adjusting the slippery smooth fabric so Wade is tied securely, but not so tightly it cuts off circulation.

“This okay?”

Wade isn’t sure if it’s more endearing or funny that he’s asking. His wrists are tied to each other, but not to anything else, and they’re not even behind his back; the degree to which he is effectively restrained is negligible. Even if he were, he’s certain there’s nothing his baby boy would or even could do to him that he couldn’t handle.

“Yeah,” Wade rasps, jerking his hips up a little as a reminder of the task at hand, so to speak.

That gets him a smile and a cheerful “Good!” before his sweetie wiggles back down where Wade wants him. His baby boy seems to be with the program enough to know Wade doesn’t really want any more teasing, because he gets straight to business, taking Wade into his mouth almost immediately.

This, he thinks, is infinitely better than the time behind the dumpster. It might even be better than the time in his apartment because his sweetie pie seems really, really into it. It’s all Wade can do to keep his hands over his head instead of trying to grab his baby boy’s hair and keep his hips still.

Finally, he pulls back for air and starts slowly stroking Wade.

“I like you like this.” His bunny boy rasps, and Wade has to awkwardly crane his neck to try to see him. To confirm if his lips are all pouty and bruised like he’s imagining.

The reality is even better than his fantasy. As soon as they lock eyes, his sweetie flutters his eyelashes dramatically and nuzzles at Wade. The noise Wade lets out is obnoxiously loud, and he hopes whoever is in the neighboring hotel rooms has the decency to be jealous right now.

The show his baby boy puts on for him feels as good as it looks, and as much as Wade still wants to touch, he also doesn’t want to interrupt. Eyes closed, his sweetie licks at him and makes lovely little noises. When he finally opens his eyes, they’re hooded and hazy, and when he takes Wade back into his mouth with a firm suck, it’s all over. He comes suddenly, almost painfully as it’s ripped out of him, leaving him feeling blissfully empty for a blessed few minutes.

It’s a better way of blowing his brains out than anything he can manage on his own, he thinks as he feels his baby boy shifting around. All that really matters to his partially off-line brain is that they’re maintaining contact; his sweetheart isn’t abandoning him now that Wade’s finished.

It takes him several more seconds to realize that his precious baby boy is now straddling his chest, leaning over Wade while he strokes himself.

“Jesus. Wade, I really, really like having you like this,” he gasps and grabs Wade’s restrained wrists with his unoccupied hand, pinning them to the bed.

Wade tugs against the grip, just to test it, and is surprised that he can’t budge it. His sweetheart’s blowjobs must really be something, to leave him a helpless puddle like this.

“Happy to please,” Wade slurs back, still feeling a little loopy post-orgasm. The feeling is fading fast, even as he tries to cling to it, but with clarity of mind comes the ability to focus on just how hot his baby boy is, so it’s something of a fair tradeoff.

“This is really…” his bunny boy licks his lips and trails off. He leaves Wade’s wrists in favor of cupping Wade’s cheek, stroking the scarred skin almost reverently. A little ghost of self-consciousness makes itself known to Wade, but the look in his sweeties hooded eyes banishes it almost immediately.

When Wade opens his mouth to say something, he finds fingers suddenly pressing down on his tongue.

“Suck,” his baby boy commands, and Wade is more than pleased to obey. He’s as sloppy as he can be, trying to coat the invading fingers with as much saliva as he can.

The only times he’s been in this position before was with Ness, and she’d liked making him slick up her fingers before she prepared him. While she never actually forewent lubrication, they both liked the fantasy that she _might_.

His honey bunny isn’t getting ready to finger Wade, though. It isn’t until Wade watches him reach behind himself that he realizes, and it almost makes his brain short out with how fast the blood rushes back down south.

He can _feel_ his baby boy’s hand, working carefully where his ass is planted on his abdomen. His bunny boy isn’t even touching his cock anymore, because Wade can feel him plant a hand on his shoulder for stability as he tries to get a better angle.

“I’ve never let anyone touch me like this,” his baby boy’s words pierce through the haze taking over Wade’s thoughts. “It’s hard to…” he breaks off for a second to tilt his head back and moan, exposing the beautiful column of his bared neck. “Hard to relax enough. But I think,” he looks back down at Wade, almost conspiratorially, “I think if I was gonna fuck someone, I’d like to do it like this.” He grinds down on his fingers and Wade beneath him, in emphasis.

It’s too much to expect Wade to lay still for that, really. And he’s barely even restrained, so it’s not like he can be blamed.

He flips his baby boy so he’s flat on his stomach beneath him and wrapping his arms around the smaller form to keep him in place so he can frantically rut against him. There’s no way he’ll be able to take his sweetie like he wants to; for one thing, not enough prep, for another, he’s about ninety percent sure he doesn’t have consent. But they have done something like this before, so Wade figures it’s fine when he slides his cock up against his sweetie’s ass. The motion sends his sweet boy jolting up the mattress, forcing Wade to start inching up the bed behind him.

Beneath him, his honey bunny is whimpering and moaning, pushing back against Wade as much as he can and rubbing against the bed covers for friction. Wade’s hold isn’t as good as he’d like it to be, given the scarf still wrapped around his wrists, so he sets his teeth against his baby boy’s shoulder to keep him in place.

His sweetie screams when Wade bites down, a wonderful, pleasure-filled sound, and Wade finds himself spilling up his back.

It takes a second for him to unclench his jaw, letting his sweetie go. They both lay there, sweating and panting heavily for long minutes before something occurs to Wade. Almost shyly, he reaches down with his bound hands, only to sigh in relief when he feels his baby boy’s stomach is wet and sticky.

“Wow,” his boy giggles suddenly. “That was pretty great, huh?”

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

“Christopher.” Wade bites out.

“What?”

“Your name. Is it Christopher? Chris? You could totally be a Kristoff, I think that should still count. Let it gooo, sweetie! Or maybe you’re more of an Olaf? Well. Definitely more of an Elsa, let’s be real here.”

“Oh my god, Wade! No! What the actual fuck! Get off me!”

“I’ll get off on you, alright.”

-

Wade doesn’t see him again for another few nights. He’d feel bad about it, except that after a short tussle and a shower in the questionably sanitary stall in the hotel room, his spicy bean admitted that he really wasn’t upset with Wade over his poor timing.

Wade did, and will continue to, argue that there is never a bad time for Frozen.

That aside, his baby boy mentioned that he wasn’t sure if he’d be free for the next three or four nights, so it would be for the best if Wade didn’t reserve a hotel room. He also reiterated that it wasn’t because he was mad at Wade for totally ruining the afterglow, and punctuated the sentiment with several kisses and then a comment that he would be totally justified in being pissed off at Wade for ruining what had otherwise been some really enjoyable sex.

So Wade’s a little confused, but he’s pretty sure his honey bunny isn’t actually angry with him.

Reasonably sure, at least.

He lurks at _Sister Margaret’s_ like a total creep for two nights, contemplating killing anyone he’s ever seen touch his baby boy. He doesn’t go through with it, mostly because if his sweetheart were to show up in the middle of the act, he would definitely be pissed at Wade, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

It’s annoying, because he’s keyed up and ready to _do_ something, but his jumping bean- he came up with that one while bored and trying to light Buck’s head on fire through sheer force of will- might show up tonight. And as much as he’d like to be working off some of this energy unaliving someone or, preferably, several someones, he’d much rather work it off doing literally anything with his bunny boy. Hell, he’d be down for some good old-fashioned dry humping if that’s what’s on offer.

When Ness died, time felt drawn out, pointless. Days dragged and weeks flew by and nothing really mattered. Now it feels like his days and nights are taking forever because he’s constantly on the lookout for his sweetheart, second guessing whether or not the boy has actually bailed on him entirely and just fed him an excuse so he’d have a head-start when he decided to run. It’s not a bad idea, really, because Wade’s very, very good at finding people who don’t want to be found. Even given only a pseudonym and a vague idea of his baby boy’s background, Wade could figure it out easily enough.

He kind of wants to, even if his Beanie-baby does show. This weird dance they’re doing around each other is fun in its own way, but Wade’s not really about the rush of the chase these days. What he really wants is to get past it so they can settle into their relationship with each other. Sure, it’s all fun and infatuation at the start, but what Wade really longs for is the comfort of a real, solid partnership.

Except that he can’t betray his grumpy bunny’s trust like that or they might never get to the worn-in, old sweatpants stage of love. So, he’s got to play his baby boy’s game. And he will. He’s been thinking hard about what names to guess next, how to interact with his little bean when he’s feeling spicy, what the lines and boundaries are of their relationship and when they can be crossed without all hell breaking loose.

But that’s only if his bunny boy didn’t hop right out of town. If he did, then there’s a whole different playbook that Wade has to consider.

Not knowing which set of plans he’s going to need is rapidly driving him nuts.

It feels impossible to focus, which is why he doesn’t notice the figure on the roof until it’s too late.

Too late meaning he gets beaned in the shoulder with a large piece of gravel, but still. His reflexes are good, despite his preoccupation, and there’s only two things that keep him from shooting the pebble-flinger down immediately.

The first is that anyone who would seriously consider going after Deadpool, especially here, would be using something with a hell of a lot more firepower than gravel. The second is that he’s pretty sure he recognizes that silhouette from the brief glimpse he got before it flitted out of his line of sight, further back onto the roof.

So, his sweetie didn’t run away.

Good; he didn’t really like the way his story-board for that eventuality was developing.

Reassured that his night isn’t going to be spent trying to develop brain-exploding mutant powers or attempting to channel Cyclops- just the worst X-Man, really. Boring and nobody even likes him, why is he even _in_ everything?- Wade practically frolics into the bar full of hardened murderers for hire.

“Hey Weaaaaas,” he sing-songs, only to be glowered at by the man in question.

“This is for you,” Weasel snaps, flicking a folded-up piece of paper at Wade. He catches it, of course. He’s not going to let that happen twice in one night.

“I didn’t let him up there, so I don’t know how you two love-birds plan on meeting on the roof of _my apartment_ , but he totally blackmailed me into giving you that. I don’t like what you’ve done with the kid, Wade, he’s becoming absolutely savage.”

Wade hums in acknowledgement, not really paying attention to his bestie’s commentary. Unfolding and reading the note is much more important.

It’s like having a high school crush all over again! With Weasel as the reluctant go between.

The note just says to come up to the roof. It’s signed with a very questionable drawing of what Wade assumes is a spider, with vertical lines underneath it and then an arrow pointing at it that says ‘totally a jumping spider’.

He’s totally going to double down on the bunny thing, now. He has to, really. The choice has been taken out of his hands.

“I’m going to break into your apartment and climb onto the roof,” Wade informs Weasel as he glides by, feeling about a thousand feet above all the losers shambling around the bar.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t break anything you shriveled prune.”

“Suck a bag full of herpes-riddled dicks, fuckface!” Wade calls back affectionately before he disappears up the stairs.

Even though he’d known it was his baby boy waiting for him on the roof, it’s still a relief to lay eyes on him. He’s not as tarted up as usual, Wade thinks, although it’s hard to tell with the shitty lighting. It might just be the drawn look on his face.

“Hey Wade,” his bunny boy greets, his voice a little raspy. He’s got a little bit of a velveteen rabbit feel to him right now.

“Hey sweetie,” Wade approaches, making grabby hands because he has absolutely zero self-control. “Weas said he didn’t let you up here. Did you hop up the building like a bunny?”

“Jumping spider,” his grumpy bunny corrects, slinging his arms around Wade’s neck when he finally closes the distance between them and Wade settles his hands on his baby boy’s narrow hips. “And yeah,” he gives Wade a peck on the cheek through the mask. “Something like that.”

“Definitely a bunny,” Wade disagrees amiably. “So why’d you want to meet up here?”

“I’m tired.” This close, Wade can see the dark, rubbery looking skin under his sweetheart’s eyes. “Down there...it’s loud and smelly and everyone is always trying to _touch_ and I just couldn’t deal with it tonight.”

“But you can deal with me?” Wade asks, feeling a little touched. “I’m loud and smelly and I’m always trying to touch you.”

“Yeah, you’re fine,” his bunny boy sighs and rests his forehead against Wade’s chest.

Those three little words render Wade temporarily speechless. No one has called him fine, in any sense of the word, for a very, very long time.

But then, standing here on the roof of _Sister Margaret’s_ with his arms wrapped around his baby boy- his baby boy who chose to be here with him, even though he’s tired and not up to dealing with people- it’s the closest to “fine” he’s been since he was happily engaged.

Timidly, because he’s not sure if his bunny boy will be annoyed with him or not, Wade runs his fingers through fluffy hair, gently scratching at his scalp. Ness had always loved head rubs when she was worn out. Judging by the way his sweetie hums and leans into the touch, Wade suspects they’re similar in this regard.

“If you’re feeling bad, you didn’t have to come. I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” Wade says quietly after a few minutes. He’s slowly working his way down to massage at the tight muscles of his baby boy’s neck. He wishes he knew what was causing his sweetheart to be so stressed out. There’s so many things Wade can’t fix and he wishes this was one thing he could. If only his secretive little Bean would tell him.

His bunny boy sighs, and leans back into Wade’s hand so he can look up at Wade’s face. “But you still came, even though you don’t really like hanging around the bar.”

It’s true enough.

“I guess,” his baby boy puffs his cheeks out, like an adorably grumpy bunny with its cheeks stuffed with carrots or something, then restarts, “I guess I don’t want you to feel bad.”

“Oh baby boy,” Wade crushes the smaller man to him in a hug. “You say the sweetest things.”

“Yeah, well,” his sweetie grumbles, his voice muffled where it’s smashed into Wade’s chest. “I’m too tired for sex, so, there’s that.”

“That’s okay darling, I’m happy to just cuddle with you and play the name guessing game!”

“Perhaps I could manage an unenthusiastic handjob,” his grumpy boy amends. “Dry, too.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take a rain check on that,” Wade smiles. “But I don’t really want to just say goodbye, either. If you want to go home, though, I totally get it. No pressure.”

“I didn’t drag my ass out here just to go right back home,” his sweetie gripes.

“I’m open to suggestions, then.”

If he doesn’t want to cuddle, have sex, or leave, Wade’s honestly not sure what his sweetie wants. Maybe food? He could offer to get him food; his baby boy always looks like he needs a sandwich or twelve.

“Could you rub my head again?” his honey bunny says, finally. “That felt really good.”

Wade’s so enthusiastic to do it he’s pulling a glove off with his teeth before the sentence is all the way out of his sweetie’s mouth. He wants to be able to feel his honey bunny’s hair if this is how they’re going to spend the evening; he’s a selfish man, after all.

His sweetie leans into him, resting more and more of his weight against Wade until he’s practically holding his honey bunny up. From there it’s only natural that they end up cuddling on the roof, Wade sitting with his baby boy’s head his on his thigh, still absently running his fingers through soft curls.

It’s nice. Peaceful, really, and exactly the sort of thing he wants to be doing with his baby boy. Wade doesn’t want there relationship to be entirely transactional and sex-based, after all.

So of course he has to ruin the moment by opening his mouth.

“How much do I have to pay to do this again?”

He immediately regrets it when his sweetie abruptly sits upright.

“I’m not charging you for this. I asked you to...to pet my hair.”

“You could totally charge for this, though. To have people follow your orders and be tied up by you while you do whatever you want with their defenseless bodies.”

His spicy bean snorts, then shakes his head, smiling a little. “I’m not into that sort of thing.”

“But you liked tying me up,” Wade points out, ever helpful.

“I like tying _you_ up, and you weren’t even really restrained,” his baby boy readjusts so he’s facing Wade.

“I liked you tying me up, too. I also liked petting you. I’d totally pay to get to pet you like this again,” and have you relaxed and happy in my lap, but Wade doesn’t say that part out loud.

“I’m not taking money for that, Wade.” His sweetie leans forward and carefully tugs Wade’s mask up. Wade’s breath catches when his sweetie’s breath ghosts along his freshly bared and sensitive skin.

“I’m not charging you for this, either.”

Then, they’re kissing. Wade is stunned, for a second, trying to process his sweetheart’s words and actions. When he does, he grabs his baby boy and pulls him closer and presses his tongue into his honey bunny’s mouth.

His baby boy wants this, wants Wade, and not for his money. The realization might be even better than being tied up and used however his sweetie wanted.

Wade feels a little guilty when he realizes just how much he’s reacting to this. His sweetie said he didn’t want sex, but Wade is a weak man when it comes to declarations of what might be considered affection from cute boys he wants to date.

Fortunately, his baby boy doesn’t seem upset by the new development pressing against his ass. He just makes a little noise against Wade’s lips, adjusts his position a little, and starts grinding back against Wade’s clothed erection.

Well, he had just been thinking about this, hadn’t he? And it’s what’s on offer, so Wade grips his sweetie’s hips and presses back up, groaning as they settle into a rhythm.

It’s a little disappointing that he can feel his sweetie’s only half-hard against his stomach, but when he tries to reach down to help him along, a surprisingly strong grip stops him before he can get there.

“I’m too tired,” his sweetheart breathes, breaking the kiss, “but I still like how it feels.”

He punctuates the point by pressing their lips together again and grinding back down.

This isn’t what he’d planned, when he asked if he could hold and pet his baby boy again, but he definitely doesn’t regret it. Not that he regrets much at all when he’s touching his sweetie. His sweetie, who is caressing the sliver of skin on the back of his neck between his mask and collar, who’s making little encouraging noises, who breaks the kiss when Wade’s panting for breath, only to kiss up along his jaw, nipping occasionally at the raised edge of a scar, then kitten licking at it.

Wade groans and pulls him down with a bruising-tight grip as he topples over the edge, everything going white and staticky for a few seconds.

“Way better than an unenthusiastic handjob,” he says when he can speak again, and his baby boy rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“David?” Now that he’s officially gotten off, it feels like the name guessing game should be fair game as well.

“Nope.”

“Okay, what about Matt?”

“Also no, and are you a Whovian, Wade?”

He isn’t, really, except that Vanessa had liked the show quite a bit and gotten Wade to binge watch it with her on lazy weekends together in bed. She’d told him that he needed to get a time travel device, since he already had the regeneration powers down.

Not that Wade’s regeneration was anything like the Doctor’s. He’d expressed how disappointed he was that when mortally wounded he didn’t turn into a different hot, young, English actor. Vanessa insisted she much preferred his style of regeneration, then kissed him into submission when he tried to protest.

So maybe he’s not the biggest fan of the show, but he was a pretty big fan of watching it.

“Eh, a little,” he shrugs, instead of explaining.

-

They fall into a pattern.

Wade slowly realizes that his bunny boy doesn’t like being at _Sister Margaret’s_ if he can help it.

Not that he’ll give Wade a number to call or an alternative meeting place, but Wade starts getting intercepted on his way to the bar, his sweetheart seemingly materializing out of nowhere to tug on his arm and drag him off course.

There’s never a question about whether Wade wants to follow or not.

He always does.

They wander the city at night, managing to avoid ending up in the same place twice.

One night they end up at a hotel with a disturbing painting of a naked, chunky figure that could either have been a man or a baby; it’s impossible to tell. His sweetie ends up covering it with his shirt so they can at least kiss without it drawing their attention and sending them into another giggle fit.

~~Tobey~~

~~Tom~~

Wade’s baby boy is upset a lot. Not that he’ll ever say as much, not that he ever lets it interfere with their time together. Wade can tell, though, because afterwards, when they’re laying together, sticky and sated, his baby boy will suddenly go tense. Most of the time, running fingers through his hair calms his bunny boy down, but sometimes it doesn’t.

~~John~~

~~Blake~~

They end up in an empty park one night, and his baby boy lays on top of the tube slide in a very effective imitation of a model.

“I’m going to warn you, my French Ladies are basically stick figures,” Wade laughs as his honey bunny bats his eyelashes at him.

“I was totally gonna give you head in the slide,” his baby boy grouses as he slips gracefully down to kick at the woodchips, “but now I’m too cold. You lost the chance of a lifetime to make bad Titanic jokes, loser.”

“My bed is nice and toasty.”

The words hang heavily between them for a moment, and Wade wishes he could snatch them back right up until his sweetie responds.

“Sure.”

Having his baby boy stretched out in his bed is enough to make Wade want to sing with joy. When he manages to wrangle him into a quick cuddle session afterwards, he totally does.

His bunny boy hops away home, but it’s a victory in Wade’s book. That’s one wall broken down, one boundary line they’ve redrawn. It honestly doesn’t matter that he didn’t guess the right name.

Wade and his sweetie end up tangled together in Wade’s sheets most nights, after that.

~~Robin~~

~~Richard~~

~~Jason~~

~~Todd~~

~~Tim~~

~~Jack~~

~~Damian~~

~~Wayne~~

They discuss it a few times before trying. It’s only appropriate, after all, because as much as Wade disregards his sweetheart’s attempts to maintain an emotional distance from him, he’ll never force him to do something he doesn’t want physically.

Wade buys lube. Nice lube, the kind that doesn’t get tacky after two minutes, because his baby boy deserves better than that, and because he has every reason to believe this will take a while.

He’s not wrong.

They’ve tried this several nights, and Wade’s always backed off before he could manage to slip a single finger in. Not for lack of desire or trying. When his baby boy said it was difficult for him to relax enough to let anything in, he wasn’t exaggerating.

It’s fine though, because the apparent tradeoff is the fact that his honey bunny is amazingly sensitive. Wade loves watching his sweetie’s expression as he nudges a slick finger against his hole, retreating when he starts to look tense or uncomfortable. Often, he barely needs to touch his sweetie’s cock for him to be spilling over, the drawn out teasing enough to have him right at the edge.

Wade doesn’t even care anymore whether he manages to successfully finger his baby boy. Just having him like this is more than enough. Most nights, his sweetie seems right there with him in that assessment.

Tonight is not like that. His baby boy is on his elbows, ass in the air for Wade’s ease of access, face buried in the pillow. Wade’s not the biggest fan of this position, because he can’t see the tiny twitches around his baby boy’s eyes and mouth that indicate it’s getting to be too much, that he’s starting to get over-sensitive.

He can still read the tension in his sweetie’s shoulders, though, so he decides to call it a night. Not wanting Wade to look at his face is something Wade’s beginning to recognize as his sweetheart trying to hide the fact that he’s distracted by something else that’s going on. If he’s already stressed from that, there’s no way he’ll ever relax enough for this to be enjoyable.

Except his sweetie seems to disagree, because when Wade starts to pull away, he forces himself back. Hard.

Wade winces when his finger meets tough resistance and is forced past, the muffled shriek of discomfort tells him it’s every bit as painful for his baby boy as he suspects.

He wants to pull away, to take the source of discomfort away as fast as possible, but he knows that’s not always the best way to handle the situation. So instead, he carefully, and slowly works his finger out of his baby boy’s impossibly tight hole, shushing him and petting him with his free hand to try to soothe him.

His sweetie is crying into the pillow now, and while Wade knows it must be uncomfortable- painful, even- it shouldn’t be painful enough to warrant that kind of response.

“Shhh, sweetie,” Wade is panicking a little. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” his darling boy sobs. “I can’t even do this!”

“As much of an ego boost as that is,” Wade says placatingly as he manages to finally extract his finger, “I don’t think this is because we can’t get my fingers up your ass.”

That earns him a watery laugh, and his sweetie looks back at him with red-rimmed eyes, collapsing into the mattress like all his strings have been cut.

“Maybe I really want those fingers up my ass,” he tries to joke, his voice shuddering a little in the after-effects of his little breakdown.

“What has you so frustrated?” Wade asks, wiping his hand on the duvet- he’ll wash it tomorrow- and curling up around his baby boy. His erection is completely gone at this point, but he always wants to hold his bunny boy close.

“It’s nothing,” is the predictable response, although his baby sounds more resigned and less resolute than usual.

“If you can’t tell me,” _won’t tell me_ , Wade thinks, “then at least tell someone else. I think you need some help, baby boy. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes.”

There’s a long silence after that, and Wade is just beginning to suspect his baby boy has fallen asleep in the aftermath of their surprisingly emotionally draining fingering session, when he hears a mumbled, “I’ll think about it.”

-

Rather than deal with trick-or-treaters, Deadpool decides to throw on a costume of his own and crash a few Halloween parties while he does some easy jobs for Weasel. He’d managed to secure a very cute little _Where the Wild Things Are_ King Max costume. Sure, it’s a skimpy leotard with a tail probably meant for women, and probably not meant to be worn over a leather bodysuit, but it’s damn cute. It’s got a hood and everything.

If he’d really been thinking, he would have ordered one for his bunny boy too. His baby boy has spectacular legs, and this costume would be perfect for showing them off.

It’s a reasonably enjoyable evening, all things considered. Some of the drunk party-goers thought he was part of some crazy Halloween party act when he showed up and ganked the host, which made leaving the scene and dealing with witnesses a hell of a lot easier. And there were at least a dozen or so people dressed up as Deadpool, so really, he’s golden.

He’s pretty sure he ran into the Green Goblin, too. He was at some corporate costume party to put the fear of god in an overly handsy middle-manager. They’d been in a truly ominous looking back room, full of questionable looking science projects, when he’d made eye-contact with the Maybe-Gobby. The Alleged-Goblin had been loading up some pumpkin shaped probable-bombs when Wade levelled his gun at his head. The Potential-Gobby had slowly put everything back and walked out of the room while Wade watched.

Not a superhero his ass. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure and all that. Probably. He’s going to tell his sweetheart all about it the next time he sees him. Wade hopes his boy is going to _Sister Margaret’s_ tonight and not running off to do whatever stressful thing he does when he isn’t with Wade.

He forgets all about his epic tale of heroism the second he walks into _Sister Margaret’s._

Because as soon as he gets through the door, his baby boy is flouncing up to him. _Flouncing_ , in a red and black top with a little red and black miniskirt and fishnet stockings. The glimpse of garter tabs has Wade’s mouth going dry. His pretty baby even switched out his little red neck-scarf for a thick black choker.

Wade’s hands immediately go to his baby boy’s waist, which looks especially tiny with the pleated skirt on. “Holy shit, baby boy. You definitely wear it better.”

His sweetheart grins up at him. “Wanna call dibs, Wild Thing?”

It’s almost too good to be true. His baby boy all dressed up as Prettypool, _asking_ to go home with him? The only thing that doesn’t make Wade suspect that he’s trapped in some sort of hallucination is the fact that he is, in fact, wearing a blood-spattered King Max leotard. With a tail.

“ _Always_ ,” Wade replies emphatically.

-

On the way back to the apartment, Wade sees several people pulling out their phones to snap pictures of them. His baby boy’s gaze follows his, and he quirks a little smile when he sees the phones pointed in their direction.

“We should totally take some, too!” his sweetie suggests.

“Good idea,” Wade fumbles around for his phone; he’d had to move everything around to accommodate the leotard. He didn’t want any unshapely lumps and bumps, after all.

When he finally gets it out and the camera brought up, his baby boy is making the most ridiculous expression Wade thinks he’s ever seen on his face. He’s still somehow adorable, though. It’s hard to match that level of silliness with his mask still on, but Wade thinks he manages.

“We gotta find a way to get a picture with the tail in it!” his sweetheart says giddily, pulling at it gently. He’s been touching Wade’s tail on and off ever since they left the bar; if Wade knew it would be such a hit, he’d have worn one weeks ago.

They do finally manage it, an awkward shot with Wade twisting around so he can show both his ass and look at the camera. As weird and stupid as he feels following his sweetie’s directions, he has to admit the pictures look surprisingly good; maybe he should start up an instagram account and have his baby boy be his photographer. People would definitely follow that shit, after all. He could become an ‘Influencer’, whatever the fuck that means.

“Want me to send these to you?” He asks, and it’s totally not because this is the least awkward chance he’s had to ask for his baby boy’s phone number yet. If he gets it, maybe he can call him with another number, get him to slip up and tell Wade who he really is. Maybe he even has his name on his voicemail.

“Maybe later,” his sweetie says, then snatches the phone to take a profoundly unflattering picture of Wade before he manages to wrestle it back.

-

By the time they stumble through the door, his sweetie is breathless with laughter, tears of giddiness flowing down his cheeks. 

“God, Wade,” he laughs, tugging at the tail of Wade’s costume as he tries to lock the door- a surprisingly difficult task with his baby boy all over him. “This is an amazing costume!”

“If I had known you were planning on dressing up with me, I would have totally insisted on a couples costume,” Wade pouts and turns.

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Besides, couples’ costume, like an outlet and a plug type thing?”

“Mmmm,” Wade hums as he grabs his baby boy’s ass and lifts him up, delighted by the way he automatically wraps his legs around Wade’s waist. “I was thinking something a little classier than that.” He’s not sure what, though, when he gets a jolt of divine inspiration. “Peter Rabbit and Farmer McGregor!”

His sweetie stiffens a little in his arms. “What?”

“Yeah, since you like the tail so much, you could be the little bunny. You are a bunny, after all. My dearest honey bunny. And I could run after you since you keep trying to steal my carrot.”

“Oh, come on, you practically throw your carrot at my face.”

“Or your ass,” Wade conceded. “Your wonderful, squeezable ass. Your costume could be a little leotard, with a slit right,” he runs his fingers over his baby boy’s hole, pushing up under his skirt to feel the silky soft underwear, “here. And the tail could just, you know, poke through, because it’d be a-”

“Jesus, Wade!” his sweetheart smacks lightly at his shoulder. Wade just laughs and throws him down onto his bed.

“Is my honey bunny shy about showing off his tail?”

“I’m not running around with a hole in a leotard so I can have a butt plug poking through!” his grumpy bunny sounds truly indignant, as if the suggestion is that much more risqué than his current outfit. Which reminds him of the glorious garter belt, so he reaches down and snaps one of the straps just to hear his baby boy yelp.

“You dickwad,” he hisses and struggles to sit up. Wade doesn’t feel like letting him, so he flops down on top, using his body weight to press his baby boy back into the bed.

“You love it,” Wade grins, happy to explore the texture of his sweetie’s stocking-clad legs and the curve of his ass under the wonderful, blessed skirt.

The one downside to the Peter Rabbit ensemble would be that it doesn’t involve his baby boy in a skirt. It’s a serious problem, and one he considers for a moment as he toys with the garter straps and the edge of his baby boy’s silky panties.

“So. If you don’t want to be Peter Rabbit, you could totally be Twinkerbell. Er, Tinkerbell.”

“Tinkerbell? And who would you be?”

“I’d be Captain Hook, of course. There’s so much sexual tension between them. And I’d love to catch you and keep you on my shelf, all cute and safe inside a bell jar.” Wade frowns. “Except, like, no Sylvia Plath-ing for you. No bell jars. You can be Peter Pan, instead. Hook and Peter would definitely have super smokin’ hot hate sex if it wasn’t a kid’s story.”

Which brings him right back to the ‘no skirt’ problem, but it’s a small price to pay to keep his darling boy one step further removed from bell jars and Sylvia Plath style self-destruction. He’s already worried enough about his honey bunny’s self-destructive tendencies as it is.

“Are you gonna move?” his grumpy boy mumbles. Wade makes a considering noise as he shifts to settle even more firmly over the top of his sweetie, blanketing him under his not inconsiderable mass. He’s pretty sure that his beanie baby would be almost invisible to anyone looking at the pair of them on the bed. The thought appeals to him, in a way that goes beyond his general appreciation of their difference in height and mass.

“Nope,” he replies flippantly as he snatches his sweetie’s wrists in his hands when he starts trying to free them from where they’re trapped between their chests.

“Ugh, Wade,” the huffed complaint is accompanied by an attempt to squirm out from underneath Wade. It’s easy enough to shift his weight, rendering the movement pointless. Even if someone burst through the door right now, they wouldn’t be able to hurt his bunny boy with the way Wade is covering him. He really, really likes it, even if his baby boy is getting frustrated and perhaps a bit smothered where he’s squished between Wade and the bed.

Wade feels his grumpy bunny tense up seconds before making a move, not that he makes any attempt to stop it. He’s curious how his wily boy is planning on trying to worm his way out from underneath Wade’s deadweight pressing down on top of him.

The plan involves some pretty impressive contortions apparently, as he tries to twist and wrap a leg around Wade’s torso while using the other in an attempt to get enough leverage to push his way out. Wade easily maneuvers his wiggly boy into another pin, careful not to hyperextend any joints too much. He has enough experience with this sort of grappling to know that sometimes having an extremely flexible partner isn’t always a safe thing for them- it’s easy to unwittingly go past their limits and hurt them, since there isn’t the obvious dead-stop of the joint locking up like usual.

Of course, that means he gives his baby boy enough leeway to keep trying to slip away, and soon they’re wrestling and rolling around on the covers. He’s not even sure what the goal is anymore, since his sweetie seems to be torn between trying to ‘escape’ and trying to get on top to pin Wade down. Either way, he delights in thwarting every attempt, intent on keeping his baby boy tucked safely underneath him.

Eventually his bunny boy seems to realize the futility of his efforts and decides on a new objective- ridding Wade of his clothing. It’s a goal Wade can get behind, so he permits it when his sweetie starts tugging and tearing at his clothes. The only thing he does to obstruct the progress is to return the favor.

Not that he wants his baby boy completely naked, though. They fumble with each other, Wade getting stuck on the catches of the garter belt while his baby boy struggles to pull Wade’s shirt off, without his cooperation.

They’re both panting and starting to sweat by the time Wade has his baby boy down only to his skirt. At some point Wade ended up on his back, and now his sweetheart is straddling him and looking victorious as he flings the last article of Wade’s clothing across the room, where it hits the wall with a bang. He must have had something heavy in one of those pockets. His neighbors probably hate him, but Wade’s looking forward to the day they attempt to make a noise complaint on him.

Not that that matters at all, not when his baby boy is looking happier than Wade’s ever seen him. Happy, and relaxed.

Grinning up at his triumphant honey, Wade reaches out for the bottle of lube that he keeps on the bedside table. He doesn’t bother putting it in a drawer, because the only person who ever comes over is his baby boy. The thought should be depressing, but Wade doesn’t particularly want Weasel snooping around his apartment and getting all sneery and judgmental anyway.

His sweetie shivers a little at the sound of the cap popping open, and Wade gives his thigh a reassuring squeeze. It’s a little bit of a struggle to get it on his fingers without having to shift positions, but Wade manages. He even does his best to warm it up a little bit before he reaches up the (sinful, perfect, fantasy-inspiring) skirt to brush to fingers ever so lightly against his sweetie’s hole.

That gets him a little gasp, but the bright, excited look in his baby boy’s eyes remains, so Wade continues to run his fingers up and down, no pressure, just feeling it. Eventually he reaches his other hand up the skirt to lazily jack at his sweetie’s cock.

After a little while, or maybe an eternity- Wade’s pretty sure he’s losing time staring at his sweetie’s blissful face- his honey bunny starts to rock against him. The motion pushes him forward into Wade’s fist, but more importantly, back against his fingers. Wade’s breath catches when he starts to feel the tip of one finger slip past the rim, and his sweetheart gasps, looking down at Wade in shock, before starting to grind back against the invading digit more purposefully.

Millimeter by millimeter, he works his way back, until there just isn’t any further to go.

“Holy shit,” his bunny boy laughs, his cheeks flushed bright pink.

“You did it,” Wade feels a little awed, although the accomplishment is, objectively, quite small.

“I did it,” his baby boy smiles, and begins to move, clearly experimenting with the angle. Wade is more than content to let him do as he wants, focusing instead on matching his rhythm as he strokes his sweetie’s cock.

Wade can tell when his honey bunny finds the best angle, because his mouth drops open with a surprised little squeak, and he begins to rock back with more purpose, his eyes going hooded and hazy. Wade could probably come from the visuals and sight alone, as his baby boy chases his climax on Wade’s hands.

When his sweetie finally comes, Wade just barely manages to stroke him through it before he has to reach down and finish himself off, his hand slick with his baby boy’s finish. It barely takes a dozen frantic strokes before he’s right there too, everything going a little staticky.

Wade regains himself to his sweetie collapsed in a sticky, boneless heap on top of him, and he can’t help but laugh with delight. Thankfully his baby boy seems to understand and is soon shaking as his laughter joins Wade’s.

-

Even the cleanup is fun, as they toss clothes at each other, trying to separate the piles and figure out who belongs to what- something that is a little bit more difficult than Wade would have originally thought. Maybe they’re both a little loopy, post-orgasm. When they finally stumble into the shower together, they’re still occasionally breaking out into goofy grins and giggles.

“We finally got your fingers up my ass!” his baby boy announces triumphantly, hugging Wade in the hot spray.

“A finger. Singular,” Wade corrects, and grins when his sweetie viciously pinches him.

He’s convinced that nothing could ruin their night when he shoos his baby boy out of the bathroom so he can take a dump; they’re really not to the point where it’s okay to be in the same room when that’s going down, and if Wade has anything to say about it, they’ll never start considering that okay. Ness had somehow considered it the height of ‘relationship goals’, but it’s something Wade will never understand the appeal of.

His baby boy is all tucked into bed when Wade emerges, which makes his chest swell with happiness, but then he catches a frown tugging his cute little lips down, and sees the tension in his frame, and starts to worry.

“Everything okay?” Wade asks as he crawls in to wrap himself around his sweetie. Post-coital cuddles are one of Wade’s favorite things, and his baby boy rarely denies him.

“It’s all fine,” is the sighed reply, and he feels his bunny boy relax by degrees in his arms. Right as Wade is drifting into sleep, his sweetheart tilts his head to kiss Wade’s jawline. “This was the best Halloween I think I’ve ever had.”

Wade smiles sleepily, squeezing him a little tighter, “Me too,” he mumbles, and drifts off to sleep. His dreams stay sweet the whole night.

-

His baby boy stays the whole night, which is fantastic. He even lets Wade make him special post-Halloween sort-of-penetrative-sex eggs.

He is by equal turns sweeter than ever and a touch distant in a way he hasn’t been in weeks.

When Wade tries to ask if he hurt him, his bunny boy laughs it off, “No, I just got reminded of something really annoying I have to do tonight, is all. I was thinking about how much I like spending time with you, and then I remembered I can’t. This evening. Tomorrow I totally can, if you want.”

Wade can feel that it isn’t quite the truth, or at least not the entire truth, but after the previous night, his staying for breakfast, and the melancholic vibes he’s getting, Wade’s not going to push it.

-

Knowing his sweetpea won’t be available, Wade calls Weasel and gets a job without bothering to go to _Sister Margaret’s_ at all that night. Going there without the promise of being either met or intercepted en route by his honey bunny doesn’t particularly appeal to him today.

He’s cutting across the rooftops on his way home after a job very well done, when he hears a familiar drawl.

“-thought we could meet somewhere a little nicer than this, sweet thing.”

“This is nice enough for our purposes,” is the irritated reply. Something about that voice is familiar, but Wade can’t quite place it.

“But where’s the romance? I mean I can get behind a quick and dirty hook-up,” the first voice cuts itself off with a snort. “Hah! Get behind.”

“I’m not here for a hook-up,” the other voice snaps.

“But, like, we are though? I mean, on Tinder you said-”

“I said I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah, on Tinder. Do you not know what Tinder is _for_ , Peter?”

“Of course I do! It was the only way I could think to get you to actually _listen_ to me, you asshole!”

There’s a long, deeply awkward pause. Wade almost wants to interrupt, just to spare them both from it stretching any further.

“Ohhhh. So you’re that Peter.”

“Yeah, no shit! And I’m telling you, you need to back off on Eddie and actually listen to what he’s saying!”

“Look, kid, I kinda came out here so I could avoid thinking about Avengers business, not to chat with you about it.”

With that detail the identity of the first voice clicks into place. Hawkeye. Wade suppresses a laugh, because his baby boy was right about the man being on Tinder. Half of him hopes his sweetie manages to match with the man so he can win his bet with Weasel, but the louder half hopes he won’t, because Wade doesn’t want his honey bunny anywhere near the other man.

“Well,” the still unidentified voice says, “if that’s how it’s going to be, I suppose we don’t have any business here.”

“We can still have a good time,” Barton wheedles. Wade kind of wants to punch the man in the face.

“Not interested.”

“Fine, I’m out. Call me later if you’re up for some fun. I’m not about mixing business and pleasure, though.”

Hawkeye takes off, leaving as the other voice grumbling quietly.

Wade thinks ‘Peter’ is still in the alley. He’s reasonably sure he doesn’t know any Peters, but the name is so common that odds are he does and he just took a bullet to the part of his brain that they were stored in. Or something. He’s not sure how his brain regeneration works, but he thinks sometimes he loses some memories in the process. He can’t be sure, of course, which is a real kicker.

When he hops down in the alley to greet petulant Peter, as he’s decided to dub the grumpy fake Tinder-date, he’s stopped short when he does instantly recognize him.

Standing there, shoulders hunched and looking as grumpy as Wade’s ever seen him is his sweetheart. His spicy bean, his grumpy bunny, his baby boy, his honey, his-

Peter.

“Hi Wade,” _Peter_ greets him, looking more resigned than surprised to see him there. “I guess we should talk, huh?”

“Hi there, sweetheart,” Wade tries for levity. “So I was looking for this restaurant, but I think I got turned around, so-”

“How about you come to my apartment?”

Well, that’s new. He’s not sure whether it’s good new, or ominous new, but the only way out is through.

“Sounds good! Lead the way, baby boy!”

Wade follows his sweetheart a few blocks to a slightly sketchy looking apartment building. He’s not sure what to say, not at all sure where this is going. He’s let into an apartment that doesn’t look so much ‘clean’ as ‘as clean as possible, given the circumstances’.

“So, yeah,” his bunny boy says after a moment, hanging his keys on a hook that looks like it’s one hard exhale from falling off the peeling paint. He turns to face Wade and tells him, with minimal enthusiasm, “Congratulations, you totally caught me, my name is Peter. Peter Benjamin Parker.”

Wade stares blankly at the anticlimax of it all.

“So that’s it? All this time I had to guess and that’s it? I expected a cake. Prizes. Party hats,” he rambles, because his brain is slowly playing catch up.

“You didn’t know?” Peter looks confused. “I was so sure…”

“How would I have known? I never guessed it.”

“But yesterday, you kept…I mean, you were going to say it the first night and I stopped you, so I just thought you were humoring me or something.”

It takes Wade a moment to process it. Peter Pan. Peter Rabbit.

“Peter Pettigrew, you little shit!” He points accusingly at his sneaky little bunny boy.

“Yeah,” Peter gives him a smug little smile, “but you like it.”

“I really, really do,” Wade groans, cursing his attraction to assholes. And god, does his baby boy have a wonderful asshole.

“So,” his bunny boy suddenly looks unsure of himself. “What now?”

What now, indeed. Wade knows exactly what he wants, but he has no idea if his precious little Petey-Pie wants that, yet.

“You like me, right?” Wade says instead of a real answer.

“I think that’s pretty obvious,” his baby boy deadpans.

“Would you like to, uh, date me?” Wade cringes, afraid of how his precious baby boy will react, and how the hell he’ll move forward if he doesn’t want to.

“Yeah,” Petey shrugs, blowing Wade’s mind. “Sure. I mean, you’ve been super nice to me, and I’m kinda into you, so…”

“So we’re dating now?” Wade asks to confirm, slowly inching towards Petey. His Petey. His sweet and sour little Peter Rabbit and how had he not guessed that sooner?

“I think that’s what we agreed on, yes,” his sweetheart nods, looking up as Wade closes the distance between them.

“Fucking awesome!” Wade cheers, before pulling his mask off and taking his victory kiss.

He keeps getting victory kisses until they stumble into bed and eventually fall asleep.


	2. Part 2

Wade has Peter’s cell number now.

So that’s a thing.

Peter has this cracked old phone, five generations out of date, which is somehow perfect for his grumpy love. His face had twisted up adorably when Wade offered to buy him a new one.

They hadn’t actually gotten around to deciding on a date the previous night. Be-Pete, had pretty much crashed after his confession, and Wade had been too preoccupied with trying to get his honey-bunny all ready for bed, then cuddling him into submission, to plan a date.

When they’d woken up in the morning, Pete had rolled out of bed and into his clothes, shambling out the door to do ‘stuff’ that he couldn’t be late for.

So now Wade is back in his own apartment, buzzing under his skin and staring at his phone, trying to figure out where to bring his sweet little Pete- his sweetie-Petey?- for their first real date.

**hey bb**

It’s maybe not the smoothest first text, but he figures it’s a good greeting. Not too much all at once; it’s all too easy to overwhelm Petey with his chatter. Ness had always been able to keep up with his rambling, had been able to cut him off when it got too much, or contribute to it when she was in the mood to keep it going. It’s totally different with sweet, grumpy Peter, who he always feels like he has to handle with care.

**What’s up?**

Of course his Petey would use proper sentences and capitalization. Wade can just imagine him typing away on his tiny little slide keyboard. It’s probably why he keeps such an outdated phone in the first place.

**date 2nite???? dinner??**

Dinner shouldn’t be too much or too scary for his baby boy. Even so, he waits nervously for several minutes before his phone buzzes. He’ll need to find the perfect notification sound for Pete’s incoming messages soon.

**Ok. When and where?**

Wade settles on a pretty nice restaurant, but not one that required reservations weeks ahead of time. Just a nice place for a first date between people who definitely wanted to be on a date and weren’t securing a hasty exit if things started going poorly.

He texts Petey the details, pretty pleased with what he managed to find, only for his phone to buzz a couple minutes later.

**They won’t let me in, I don’t have nice enough clothes for this place.**

Wade snorts. Of course they’d let his baby boy in; there isn’t a host or hostess alive who would turn away Deadpool and his date. Pete could show up naked and it’d be fine. But the thought of getting to take Petey out shopping, picking out cute outfits for him, maybe following him into the dressing room to help him try it on…

**ill take u shopping bb**

**b ur fairygodmother**

There’s a couple minute pause before his phone buzzes again.

**The cocktails are like 20 bucks wtf.**

Is Pete just ignoring his offer of a totally fabulous shopping adventure? It does seem like something that he might try to wave off as Wade getting too involved, but they are dating now. He gets to be involved. And Petey doesn’t even drink. Wade has never seen a drop of alcohol pass his lips, and from what he saw of his sweetie’s apartment, he doesn’t keep any at home either. He’s not sure what this is about, but he doesn’t want his honey bunny to worry.

**dont worry i gotchu**

Wade pockets his phone and goes back to scrubbing a bloodstain out of one of his costumes. It’s a bitch to clean when it dries in the seams like this. He’s only just started to make progress on it when he feels his pocket vibrate.

**The cheapest thing on the menu is 34 dollars.**

Why is Pete sending him facts about the pricing? It’s not like he didn’t spend that much during an evening with ‘Ben’. He’s not really sure how to respond to this line of conversation.

**yup**

His phone starts vibrating immediately; it’s not a text this time, but a phone call.

“Hey there sweetie,” Wade greets cheerfully.

“Wade,” Pete sounds all sorts of uncomfortable. “I don’t...I can’t ask you to take me to a restaurant like this.”

“Well,” Wade draws the word out, “it’s a good thing I’m asking you instead, then, isn’t it?”

“It’s too much. I- thank you, it looks really nice, but I...I can’t…”

“I’m paying, so don’t worry about it Petey-pie.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worrying about it!” Pete’s voice goes up an octave.

“Why? It won’t even be the most I’ve spent on an evening with you, darling.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because he hears a strangled noise and then nothing for a long minute.

“Pete? What’s the matter?”

“I just-” Pete’s voice sounds tight, like he’s trying not to cry. “I don’t want it to be like that. With us. I want to go on a date like people, not like I’m some sort of-” he cuts off, not wanting to say it.

“Sugar baby?” Wade supplies easily. For someone who had been very emphatic about their relationship being based on his financial gain, Petey sure is hung up on this.

“Yeah,” Petey sounds dejected.

“Okay,” Wade says as soothingly as he can, trying to think of some way to salvage the situation before everything is ruined. They haven’t even been on a single date yet, for fuck’s sake. Except...Pete had liked the tacos, he thought. “How about we go out and hit up some food trucks instead?”

“That sounds nice,” Pete sounds relieved, then suddenly concerned as he rushes to say “If you really want to go to the restaurant, I’ll do it. I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to because of me. It’s fine. I’ll go.”

It’s a good thing his silly baby boy can’t see him right now, because Wade can’t help rolling his eyes. If Pete weren’t so damn opposed to going to the restaurant in the first place, they wouldn’t be in this position. His sweetie really does need kid gloves sometimes. “I think we should do the food trucks. It sounds more fun anyways.”

“O-okay. Food trucks. Where should we meet? And when?”

Wade gives a silent sigh of relief as Pete seems to have calmed down.

“How about I go pick you up around five?”

“Okay. Five. I’ll see you then?”

“See you then, baby boy.”

“Thanks, Wade. I’m um, I’m excited to see you.”

“I’m very excited to see you, too, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Uhm. Bye.”

There’s a little click as the line disconnects. Wade tosses his phone onto the table and grabs his brush and soiled costume again.

And he’d thought trying to convince his honey bunny to date him would be the hard part.

-

Pete dressed up for their date.

Not in a super obvious way, and Wade is definitely not going to point it out. He doesn’t want to embarrass his lovely boy or anything like that.

He’s not in his ‘Ben’ get up, but he also isn’t wearing the beat up flannel and worn out jeans that he’d been wandering around in the other night. He’s looking just a touch self-conscious in his well fitted navy v-neck t-shirt, red jeans and a comfortable looking jacket. His hair is soft and fluffy; there isn’t much, if any, product in it, but it looks like some effort went into styling his adorable curls.

That, along with the way Pete blushes and links arms with Wade as they walk together, makes him want to gather his honey-bunny up in his arms and bring him to bed to ravish. But that’s not the point of this evening. No, Wade thinks as he squeezes his baby boy’s perfect ass, eliciting a little shriek and earning an elbow to the ribs. This evening is for getting to know Petey.

Wade’s decided to take them towards a nearby park; there is a plethora of food trucks and nonthreatening little restaurants that they can choose from, and Wade thinks Pete will enjoy the casual atmosphere of an outside date.

It also means they don’t have to sit across from each other, which Pete seems to appreciate.

The first half an hour or so is awkward. It can’t not be, given their history.

After trying to find a way out of having Wade pay for his dinner, his grumpy boy settles on beef empanadas from a sinfully delicious smelling food truck. They settle on a bench and Petey carefully picks at his food, eating with an almost painful deliberateness.

He’s quiet. His sweetie wasn’t terribly chatty before the big reveal, but Pete seems disinclined to talk at all. Wade isn’t sure if it’s because he’s uncomfortable or shy, but either way it’s fine. He can carry a conversation on his own no problem, and his bunny boy watches and listens intently.

Wade has a lot of stories but picking one appropriate for his sweetie’ tender ears is difficult. Discussing work seems in bad taste, and discussing Vanessa seems an even worse move for their first ‘real’ date.

Instead he tells Petey about the escapades of Blind Al as she tried to find Wade’s secret stash. Objectively, Wade knows that Petey must know quite a bit about drug use, given his occupation at _Sister Margaret’s._ Subjectively though, it feels wrong to casually bring up hard drug use in light conversation, so Wade is purposely vague about what it is that Al was looking for.

His sweetie doesn’t look fooled, though, and Wade eventually has to find an out from the story. Petey looks ready to ask the hard questions as soon as his food is nibbled into oblivion.

“Do you want dessert?” Wade asks, ever the gentleman.

Petey-pie continues to give him that strange look for a moment, then sighs. “I want a mint chocolate-chip ice-cream cone. It’s gotta be the green shit, too.”

“Of course,” Wade grins. “If it’s not green, is it really mint chocolate-chip?”

“No. It’s an abomination,” his bunny boy says gravely, then cracks a tiny, lopsided smile. It’s not like his on-the-clock smiles, not nearly as picture-perfect, but Wade thinks it’s far more beautiful.

The ice cream is a little harder to get, because not that many people want to walk around with ice cream cones in November, but eventually Wade is victorious in his search for green mint chocolate-chip. He gets chocolate-chip cookie dough for himself, and they amble slowly back towards Pete’s apartment.

His bunny boy is shivering a little by the time they make it to his apartment, but he looks...content. More settled than he has for a while.

“This was really nice,” Petey tells him after he unlocks the door.

“It really was,” Wade agrees. He’s itching to touch and hold, but he doesn’t want to push anything. It’s their first date, after all.

“I…” Pete glances at Wade, then at his apartment. “Uhm. If you want to come in, you can.”

It’s not that Wade doesn’t think Peter wants him to come in. It’s just that after their talk on the phone about Petey’s concern over Wade treating him like a sugar baby, Wade is reluctant to do anything to make it look like he expects his honey bunny to put out after every date.

“I was planning on picking up a job tonight,” Wade says instead of the ‘Yes, absolutely’ that he really wants to. “So I should probably go home and get my shit together for that. Unless you want me to cancel?”

“Oh,” Petey looks a little surprised and a little relieved. Wade tries not to be hurt by that, because he knows he’s doing the right thing by giving his baby boy some space right now to adjust to their new status-quo. “Okay! I’m really sleepy anyways, so it’s probably for the best.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Wade can’t help but reach out for his sweetie’s hips. Pete edges forward obligingly and wraps his arms around Wade’s neck.

“Of course,” he smiles again, that soft, imperfect expression that is all Pete. And it’s just for him.

It’s even Petey who goes up on his tip-toes to close the distance between them for the best first-date kiss Wade has ever experienced.

-

“It was downright _chaste_ , Weas!” Deadpool whines, ignoring the fact that _Sister Margaret’s_ was busy. He needed his bro time with Weas, work hours be damned.

“If you want him to put out, why the fuck did you start dating him?” Weasel is also ignoring the increasingly irritated patrons in favor of ribbing his friend.

“It’s not...it’s not like it’s a totally bad thing,” he muses and levels his gun at an impatient patron trying to reach for a bottle of liquor over the bar, “I mean, it means he’s comfortable with me, right? We still kissed. It was a good kiss.”

Weasel snorts, not paying any attention to the would-be thief who is now slowly edging his way back into the crowd and out of Deadpool’s line of fire. “Then why are you here bitching to me about it? Shouldn’t you be mooning over him and trying to order flower arrangements or some shit like that?”

“I don’t think he likes flowers,” Deadpool sighs, morose. Maybe he could get Petey flowers. It was one of those things he Most Definitely Could Not Do with Ben, but now that he and Pete are dating, maybe it would be acceptable.

His thoughts are interrupted by a dramatic groan from Weasel.

“I am so gonna regret telling you this, but irises.”

“Are muscles in the eye. Kind of. They do have a sphincter though. Eye sphincters,” Deadpool giggles to himself.

“Jesus fuck, you dumbass. Irises the flowers. He likes them.”

Wade’s brain stalls out for a moment.

“How the fuck do you know that?” _and I don’t_ , he snarls, gesturing emphatically. He notices several people flinching in his peripheral vision and realizes he still has his gun in hand. Irritated, he slams it down on the counter.

Completely unintimidated, Weasel rolls his eyes, “You weren’t always around, asshole. And Benny boy was all kinds of awkward when he first showed up here.”

“How does that explain you discussing flowers with my baby boy?”

“First of all, ew. Second, he needed to figure out how to talk to people. He practiced on me.”

“Did he _practice_ anything else with you?” Wade grumbles. It’s a ridiculous thing to ask. It’s not his business who Petey had sex with, and Weas is a lot less nasty than some of the people he actually saw his baby boy with. Even more relevant; Weasel doesn’t sleep with the prostitutes that show up at his bar. Something about not wanting to ‘accidentally fuck any of you fucking assholes by proxy’.

“Jesus fuck. You’re barking up the wrong tree, you dumbass. You’re so far from the right tree you’re not even in the same forest. Not even a similar type of forest. It’s a goddamn joshua tree and you’re running around in Siberia.”

“Do you come up with all this shit in your free time?” Wade asks, leaning forward and squinting at Weasel, “Or does it just flow out of you? Like diarrhea. I have a guy for verbal Immodium,” He reaches over to rest a supportive hand on Weasel’s shoulder.

“Do you really? Because all evidence points to the contrary,” Weas is eyeing his hand, probably contemplating trying to cut the appendage off. Deciding that re-growing a hand and repairing his costume _again_ isn’t worth continuing to annoy his friend, Wade withdraws it.

“Nonsense,” Wade grins, re-holstering his gun. Some of the dumber looking guys look like they’re going to try to make a grab for it. “Everyone wants to hear what I have to say.”

Shouting and the sound of someone smashing furniture interrupt their very important discussion and Weasel makes a high-pitched hybrid whine/groan. It’s an impressive noise, and one Wade makes a note to try to get Weas to make again. He’s not even sure if it’s because of the rowdy mercenaries or just him. He wants to be able to take solo credit for it though.

“You’re going to have to wallow in your love sickness and verbal diarrhea alone for awhile, dickwad.”

With that, Wade is left alone again. He scrubs his hands over his masked face in frustration. He shouldn’t have freaked out. Weasel’s advice on floral arrangements would have been a good thing to get.

“Alright you dumbasses! Bar’s open for business! Whoever gives the fucker who broke my chair a wedgie drinks for free!”

 _Sister Margaret’s_ breaks out into absolute pandemonium, and for once, Deadpool isn’t in the thick of it. Instead, he slips out, googling ‘iris bouquets’ on his phone.

-

They go out on three more dates before Wade gathers the courage to bring a bouquet over when he shows up. So far everything has been...nice. Nice, but it feels like they don’t know how to be intimate with each other anymore, now that it isn’t a ‘service’ being rendered. He hopes that a romantic gesture like a bouquet might help.

He’s afraid that it’ll offend his baby boy and set them back even further.

He knocks on his grumpy bunny’s door, bouquet in hand. Irises, like Weasel had advised, and some other pretty little white and yellow flowers. He’s anxious enough that he’s wearing his full Deadpool suit instead of a face mask and hoodie like he usually does when he’s out in ‘civvies’. If Petey hates them, he doesn’t want to worry about hiding his facial expression.

Some part of him still wishes he’d sprung for five dozen red roses, but the florist assured him that this bouquet is a great choice for a new relationship. The ‘new relationship’ label made Wade bristle a little, but he’s only been officially dating Petey for a little over a week. Even if he included their time together when they were dancing around each other pretending it was just a ‘business relationship’, it’s only been about a month and a half. Time aside, Wade doesn’t think of them being in the new phase of their relationship anymore. He’s committed, and his Petey-pie’s decision to let him into his life for real just seals the deal.

Weasel and the florists’ kneecaps are saved when his baby boy opens the door and gasps when he sees the flowers. “Wade! Are those for me?”

He’s tempted to say something snarky, but Petey looks too cute and happy to spoil it with a dumb joke.

“Do you like them?” he asks instead, even though the answer is obvious.

“I love them! Irises are my favorite!” Pete informs him energetically as he ushers Wade into the apartment. “We had them in this tiny little garden when I was growing up. My- my foster dad and I would get another bulb for my foster mom as a present every year. Like, not for her birthday or anything. The best time to plant them is nowhere near it, or any other gift giving holiday.”

Petey blushes and looks at Wade shyly when he starts talking about his foster parents. The mention of family makes a complicated knot of emotions coil in Wade’s chest. He’s mostly happy that his baby boy feels comfortable telling him about them. Pete had never specified his relationship to ‘the people who raised him’ before, and had only ever mentioned them once, back when they met. Underneath that, though, he feels an uncomfortable bit of irritation. He doesn’t want to think about his own parents. He especially doesn’t want his sweetie distracted by his foster parents when he’s getting a bouquet from Wade. It’s a completely inappropriate thought, so he does his best to shove it out of his mind.

“I’m glad you like them, sweetheart,” Wade says instead.

Petey is digging through his kitchen, his cute little butt wiggling as he digs through some cupboards on his knees.

“I know I’ve got it around here somewhere,” he grumbles, pulling out a seemingly endless pile of mismatched tupperware and lids. Wade gets to appreciate the view for a couple minutes before Petey manages to extract a sickly yellow plastic pitcher from the nether realms of his container cabinet.

“Found it!” he announces, holding his prize triumphantly over his head.

“Gonna make us some kool-aid, Petey?”

His bunny boy flushes bright red to the tips of his ears and deliberately turns away from Wade to shove the rest of the tupperware back into the cupboard haphazardly.

“I don’t have a vase, so I thought...it’s the only thing I have in the right shape that’s big enough.”

Wade instantly feels like the giant asshole that he is. He sets the flowers down carefully on the counter before gently taking the pitcher from Pete and comfortingly nuzzles the top of his head- he can’t kiss him effectively through the mask, but he thinks the sentiment is conveyed well enough.

“It’s a great idea, baby.”

Pete looks up from where he’s still kneeling on the cheap vinyl flooring. “It’s not. I mean, you got me beautiful flowers and I’m trying to stick them in an ugly pitcher. I think it’s older than I am.”

Wade would not be surprised; the pitcher in question looks like it might be even older than he is. He rests a hand on the back of Pete’s neck, massaging it gently and feeling a little thrill of delight as his baby boy closes his eyes and relaxes into the touch.

“I know you have a thing about me spending money on you now, but maybe I could get you a vase? That way I can bring you more flowers.”

Petey cranes his neck to examine Wade’s face, his eyes only half open. His expression combined with the lingering blush makes Wade flex his hand ever so slightly around the back of his neck. His baby boy’s eyes flutter shut for a second at the sensation.

“How about we pick one out together? That way I’ll be sure you don’t get anything too ridiculous.”

“As long as you don’t immediately go for the cheapest one you can find. I don’t want to get you some terrible plastic abomination just because it’s on clearance or something.”

“Deal,” Pete smiles and turns on his knees, pulling away from Wade for just a moment before intertwining their fingers. Wade’s heart tightens at the gesture, and he softly squeezes his baby boy’s fingers in reply.

“I guess I better grab my jacket and hat if we’re going out, huh,” Petey says, breaking the comfortable silence after a moment.

“I’ll put the flowers in some water while you get dressed.” Petey rises to his feet in one fluid, graceful motion.

There is something seriously wrong with him if watching his honey bunny stand up is enough to get him going. Or maybe it’s just that there’s something seriously right about his Petey-pie.

Wade is only just getting the flowers haphazardly arranged in the pitcher when Petey announces he’s ready to go. Wade sighs at the bouquet and mourns the loss of the artful arrangement the florist had coaxed the flowers into. Maybe he should have left them bound up, but he was worried about damaging the stems. He knows next to nothing about flowers, and there’s no cramming that toothpaste back in the tube. Given the rather spartan conditions of Petey’s apartment, it’s doubtful that he’ll be upset about it, but it still bothers the part of Wade that wants to pamper his baby boy.

“Be right there,” Wade calls, trying vainly to prod the flowers back into form one last time before giving up.

Petey is waiting for him by the door, looking seriously bundled up, despite it being a relatively mild day. He’s pulled on a dark blue jacket and a bright red hat, which seems a little excessive. He wouldn’t dare poke fun at his sweetie for it though. The thought of him going cold because of a comment from Wade is enough to keep his mouth shut, and the way Pete’s curls poke out from beneath the hat is adorable.

Wade doesn’t really have to worry about dressing for cooler weather. The combination of his mutation making him always run hot and the full body leather coverage of his Deadpool suit means that he very rarely feels cold. It takes a lot more than a chilly mid-November day to make him shiver, but Petey gets chilled remarkably fast. He thinks even Ness had a better tolerance for cold than his Petey-pie, and she would nest in blankets for about two or three months of the year and threaten Wade’s manhood if he dared touch the thermostat.

“So where do you want to go?” Pete asks as he locks the door, a process that involves a lot of careful jiggling and a rapid push-pull to ensure everything latches properly. It makes Wade’s fingers itch with the desire to just scoop his baby boy up and never let him come back to this dump of an apartment complex.

“Pottery Barn?” Wade offers the first thing that comes to mind. He sure isn’t bringing Petey to Target or Wal-Mart for their shopping trip, but he knows he can’t pick anywhere too fancy.

“What if we checked, like, second-hand stores or something like that? We might find something with a little more...character, you know?”

And almost definitely cheaper, Wade thinks, though he doesn’t want to call Pete out on it. Besides, the thought of spending an entire afternoon with Petey looking for the perfect vase sounds kind of fun. They’ll almost certainly get hungry while they’re out, and Wade will be able to get some good food into his sweetheart without making him suspicious.

“So,” Wade starts as they walk hand in hand down the street towards the first option on Wade’s list of approved second-hand shops. At first Petey had suggested a Salvation Army not far from his apartment, which Wade instantly rejects. His baby boy doesn’t live in a fancy enough neighborhood for there to be a decent selection. “You haven’t been to _Sister Margaret’s_ since you told me your real name.”

“I know you get upset seeing me with other people,” Petey mumbles, turning a little pink.

“You wouldn’t have to be with other people, though.”

“I’m hardly going to charge you to sleep with me while we’re dating.”

Wade tamps down on the urge to sigh in annoyance. “It’s a little different if I’m paying you to do your job, right? Like, if you were a maid and I employed you and also dated you, it wouldn’t be weird if I paid you to clean my house, right?”

“I’m not sure how that metaphor works, and I think that still might be a little weird. I don’t feel comfortable with it, so.”

“Are you working somewhere else, then?” It makes Wade feel guilty and more than a little sick to think that Petey might be working somewhere even less safe just to spare his feelings.

“Kinda,” Pete shrugs, and Wade’s stomach drops. “I mean, I asked the grocery store for more hours, but they can’t give me that many more. My friend MJ knows someone at this cafe place that’s hiring, though, and they said I could start there next week, so between the two, I should be able to cover rent and everything.”

It takes Wade a minute to process the implications of what Petey just said. “Wait, what? What grocery store?”

“Oh, I never mentioned it? Yeah, I’ve been working at the grocery store for a while. I needed some sort of legitimate job, and I can get health insurance through them. It seemed like a good idea. It doesn’t pay super well, but between the hours I have there and then starting this new job at the cafe, I should be fine.”

“So you’ve stopped being a prostitute because you started dating me?”

“Well, I mean. I’m not sure I would say that, but it didn’t hurt my decision, you know?”

It’s a very diplomatic way of Petey saying yes, and Wade’s not sure how he feels about it. He wants to offer to take care of his baby boy, to make it so he never has to work again, or at least to help him until he finds his footing. He’s pretty sure he knows how Pete would react to that though, so instead he injects as much smarm into his voice as he can and says, “You gotta let me know what days you work at that cafe, so I can go there during your shifts.”

“Oh, I’ll be in the kitchen, I think,” Pete pushes a lock of hair back under his hat, looking bashful. “So it’s not like you could say ‘hi’, anyways.”

Wade snorts derisively, “I’m Deadpool; if I want to see my boyfriend working in the kitchen, I don’t think anyone would try to stop me.”

“Mmm. Probably not,” his baby acknowledges, and he sounds a little pleased by the fact. Warmed by the approval, Wade lets go of Pete’s hand so he can pull him closer and tuck his itty bitty boyfriend under his arm.

“Oh, I think that’s the first shop, right?” Pete points out a corner storefront. The window has an artful display of clothing and furniture from a variety of styles and eras, all somehow tastefully put together.

The shop doesn’t have the distinctive smell of a Salvation Army or antique mall, which Wade considers a good sign. Unfortunately, things don’t seem to be organized by item so much as grouped into aesthetically pleasing sets. This means they have to wander all over in their search for a vase. The pickings are tragically slim. Wade finds one that he thinks might be suitable, but when he points it out, Petey makes a little grumpy face.

“The metallic paint is a little...tacky, don’t you think?” he whispers in Wade’s ear after giving a quick glance around, as if he’s concerned that he’ll offend the bored-looking cashier by insulting a second-hand vase.

Wade kind of likes the gold paint, but then his tastes tend to be a little more ostentatious than Pete’s.

They end up leaving the store empty handed, not that Wade minds. It means more time spent with Petey, and his bunny boy looks like he’s in a good mood. He’s practically hanging off Wade’s arm, smiling whenever they glance at each other.

The light mood lasts through the next three shops. They finally find a suitable vase at the third place. It’s a little plain, Wade thinks, but Petey had made a good point about not wanting the vase to compete with the flowers.

Wade’s riding high on his success for the day when they settle down at a cute little cafe. They’ve got a small pile of pastries between them, since it had been impossible to pick just one each. Petey is nibbling at a blueberry scone while he waits for his tea latte to cool down a little. His baby boy doesn’t like coffee, finding it too bitter. Also, he informed Wade in a very serious tone, coffee breath was objectively terrible. Possibly the worst. A strong contender with garlic breath for the title of nastiest. No beverage could possibly be worth that.

Wade loves how worked up Petey gets over the evils of coffee. In some ways it reminds him of the conversations he would have with Ness. Not that Petey is like Ness, really. It’s nice to be able to think about her, though, and have it be more of a dull ache than a gaping wound. She would have adored Peter, he’s sure of it.

It’s soft and warm and somehow fragile, this little bubble of theirs in the coffee shop. Wade doesn’t get to have moments like these, not anymore. It doesn’t seem like Petey gets many, either. They’ve long since finished, but neither is making a move to leave. Even when Wade has to excuse himself to go to the restroom, it’s only with great reluctance.

“Is it really that hard to pee when you’re wearing the suit?” Petey teases gently as Wade dawdles, not wanting to leave even for a couple minutes. “I know it’s not that hard to get things pulled out.”

“Not that hard?” Wade gasps in mock offense. “Your words cut deep.”

Pete rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his tea. The foam clings to his upper lip and Wade wants to lick it off himself, before his baby boy’s tongue darts out to catch it. “You’re plenty hard, Mr. Deadpool sir. Just, you know, easy, too.”

“We’ll see who’s ‘easy’ later,” Wade half-threatens. They haven’t had sex since before they started dating, and Wade can admit that he’s getting a bit thirsty. Granted, it’s only been something like a week, but it’s the longest they’ve gone since they met.

“Still you,” Petey replies, looking adorably smug.

“You’re right,” Wade grins, deliberately running a foot up the inside of Pete’s leg. His sweetie turns a little pink, but he doesn’t make any move to escape or push Wade’s foot away.

“This is a conversation we should probably finish later. At home. Now go pee before your bladder pops; that so isn’t one of my kinks.”

“Noted. No watersports for my baby boy.”

“Ugh. Just go.”

Unfortunately, Wade’s instincts are rarely wrong.

Somehow, in the time it took Wade to piss, someone has managed to turn his happy, soft little Petey pie rigid with tension. A tall, not unattractive man is standing over Wade’s baby boy and smiling as he talks to him. The smile doesn’t look very friendly.

With a barely suppressed snarl, Wade makes his way back to the table. A woman trying to balance several coffees and bowls of soup precariously on a small tray has to swerve abruptly to get out of his path. The dickbag notices his unsubtle approach and makes his exit right as Wade reaches them.

“Nice seeing you, Peter!” he says with false cheer as he hurries away from the table. The coward heads in the opposite direction from Wade’s approach.

As if that would stop him.

He’s ready to go stomping right past the table and relieve the man of the terrible burden that his tongue appears to be, but Petey shoots out a hand to grab his wrist.

“Don’t,” Pete says quietly. “I just wanna go home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Wade agrees easily. Pete flashes him a tiny, grateful smile and grabs the bag with the vase in it. As they leave, Wade sees the dickwad smirking in their direction. He makes a point of familiarizing himself with his features; he suspects the information will be useful later.

-

By the time they’ve made it half-way back to Petey’s apartment, Wade is ready to kill the living skidmark that ruined their date. He has no idea how to cheer up his baby boy, who has been silently stewing in anger since they left the shop.

“Baby boy,” Wade gently touches Petey’s shoulder, “whatever he said-”

“-It was stupid,” his grumpy bunny cuts him off. “It doesn’t even matter.”

“It kinda looks like it does.”

“Just...I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

With how tense his honey is right now, Wade’s afraid that pressing any more will end in them making a big scene, which he knows they would both regret. So instead of trying to meet Pete’s frustration head on, he falls quiet.

The only thing that keeps him sane is fantasies about ruining that dickwad’s life in increasingly painful and bizarre ways, although he’s aware that if he does anything to the man now, Pete will probably be suspicious and upset.

There’s a faint tremble in Petey’s hand when he shoves his key into the lock. The door is finicky, and his first attempt to get it open fails. With his patience clearly already running thin, his face twists up into an angry scowl and Wade watches, a little shocked, as Pete aggressively forces it open. The door swings open and hits the wall with a loud bang.

“Shit,” Petey whispers, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He visibly forces himself to relax before he steps into the apartment and inspects the damage. There’s a little divot in the drywall where the doorknob hit, but it’s not that bad.

“Sweetheart,” Wade tries again, “is there anything I can do?”

“No. It’s all fine. I’m fine,” Pete turns and gives him a tight smile. It looks more like a grimace than anything joyful. “I’m just going to put the flowers in the vase, okay?”

“Yeah,” Wade nods dumbly. “That sounds like a good idea.”

He’s not sure if he should follow or not, so he just kind of stands where he can see his grumpy bunny moving around in the kitchen. Wade’s a little worried the vase is going to be a casualty of this strange outburst, but Petey handles the vase and flowers with exceptional care. He fusses around, arranging and rearranging obsessively.

Finally, Wade can’t stand it any longer, and he goes to comfort his baby boy. Petey stiffens as he wraps his arms around him and hooks his chin over his short little sweetie’s shoulder.

“They look really nice,” he murmurs, and gets a short, jerky nod from Pete. “How about we watch some movies and snuggle? Or start a terrible, yet addictive TV show with way too many seasons. I could get us pizza for dinner.”

Petey whirls around suddenly in his arms and shoves at him. Wade’s back hits the fridge, more surprised than anything.

“I don’t need you to rescue me!” Peter grabs the katana strap, tugging Wade down so they’re face to face. “I don’t need you to take care of me! I’m fine! I’m doing fine. On my own.”

Petey’s cheeks are flushed and he’s panting with emotion. Wade’s only ever seen him like this once before, and at the time he’d been equally angry. Too angry to properly appreciate how hot it is.

Not that he can say as much.

“I know,” he says instead.

Petey deflates a little, probably not expecting that response. “Then don’t-”

Wade takes his sweetie’s hands in his own, making him release the strap so he can straighten up.

“Don’t what, Petey?” he asks in a deep rumble, taking a step to follow as his sweetie stumbles back. “Don’t care about you?”

“That’s not-”

“Because I do care about you,” Wade cuts him off. Every time Petey tries to back away, he takes a step forward, guiding them out of the kitchen and away from anything breakable.

“I care about you a lot, Petey-pie,” he husks, loving the way his baby boy is looking up at him. There’s a little bit of something like fear there, but mostly anticipation. His pretty lips part in surprise as Wade backs him into a wall and presses in close, letting Petey feel how his little fit affected him.

“Are you not used to it?” Wade shifts so both of his baby boy’s wrists are caught in one hand so he can push his mask up. “Not used to having someone care, is that it?” he leans in, watching in satisfaction as Pete’s breaths start coming in little gasps.

“I-”

He cuts off whatever his sweetie was going to say by crushing their lips together and shoving his tongue down Pete’s throat. It takes a second, but then Petey groans and starts giving as good as he gets. Wade grins into the kiss and presses his thigh between Pete’s legs, giving his sweetheart something to rut against.

This isn’t what he had planned when he brought over the bouquet, or when they started flirting in the café. It’s almost better. They’ve been walking on eggshells around each other ever since Petey decided to let Wade know his real name, like his sweetheart is still afraid to let him know who he really is. Embarrassed that maybe the things that ‘Ben the callboy’ likes are things that Pete enjoys, too, even though he clearly tries to keep those two parts of his life as separate as he can.

Satisfied that his grumpy honey isn’t going to try to push him away again, Wade lets his wrists go so he can push his hands up his sweetheart’s shirt. The gloves prevent him from feeling his soft skin, but he can still feel the defined bumps of his spine. It bothered him at first- it still does, actually- but now he associates it so strongly with his Petey-pie that he enjoys the feeling of them beneath his fingers. His baby boy shivers a little at the touch, and presses against Wade desperately, his hands fumbling to unzip Wade’s pants.

Wade wants to let him. No, what he wants to do is scoop Petey up, take him to bed, and then ravish him. He could do it; they would both enjoy it.

But then they probably wouldn’t ever talk about whatever it is that has his grumpy bunny all worked up.

So instead, he hugs Petey closer, making it near impossible to get into his pants, and pulls back from the kiss.

Peter looks wrecked, flushed and panting through swollen lips, looking up at Wade with confusion in his hazy eyes.

“Wade?” his voice is raspy and it’s almost enough to overcome Wade’s determination to cool things off and talk about their problems like adults.

“Sweetheart.”

He’s disgustingly in love with this boy.

Petey frowns when Wade doesn’t immediately kiss him again, opting to strain against Wade’s hold to try to press their lips together again. Wade gives him a light peck and pulls away, walking them back towards the couch. He distracts his baby boy with quick, gentle kisses until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he can pull Petey into his lap.

His baby boy goes easily enough, clambering onto Wade’s lap and trying to get into his pants again. This time Wade takes Peter’s smaller hands in his own, massaging his palms in what he hopes is a relaxing manner.

He needs to get Petey to talk to him, and to listen to Wade. It’s so hard to get his sweetheart to open up.

It was one of the million reasons why he’d loved Ness, would always love her. With her, things hadn’t always been easy, but they’d always let each other know where things stood. They’d known everything about each other, down to the ugliest, pettiest details, and Wade had loved her all the more for it.

He barely knows anything about Peter. He can’t figure out what the fuck his baby boy is feeling half the time, can only really tell what he’s thinking when they’re in the middle of sex and even then he’s only about seventy percent sure. There is no earthly reason he should be this gone for a cute face and an unreasonably nice ass, yet here he is.

“Wade,” Petey growls, and it’s one of the cutest things he’s ever heard in his life. How can he not give his sweet, grumpy boy exactly what he wants? Besides, it’s mostly Wade’s fault he’s all riled up right now. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to give his baby boy what he so clearly wants.

So Wade doesn’t try to stop it when Peter lunges forward and yanks his mask all the way off before crashing their lips together in a mess of teeth and tongue. It’s borderline vicious and Wade loses himself in it, so distracted that he fails to notice what Petey is doing with his hands until he feels one close around his cock, pulling him out insistently.

“ _Fuck_ , Petey.”

His baby boy grins victoriously as he pulls back and Wade groans as he feels Peter’s own erection grind against his. Then his sweetie licks a stripe up his palm and closes the hand around them, working them both quickly.

 _Shit_. It’s too much. He can tell from the way Peter is leaking against him that this isn’t going to take long, and he would be lying if he said he was going to hold out much longer himself.

In an act of supreme willpower, and probably a touch of masochism, Wade grabs Peter’s wrist and stops him. Petey looks about ready to commit murder, so Wade shushes him as he manhandles them into a different position.

“Like this,” he breathes into his baby boy’s ear, settling him on his lap, back to front. Petey makes a little noise of disapproval, readjusting himself so Wade’s cock slides between his asscheeks and grinds down.

Goddamn it.

“Shhh, honey,” Wade tries again, cutting off a groan as Petey rocks against him just right. “Let me take care of it.”

He snakes one arm around Petey’s chest to hold him in place as he starts to slowly work his baby boy’s cock. It’s already slick with precum, and he’s lucky Petey managed to get his legs tangled up in his jeans, which are shoved almost down to his knees, because Wade isn’t sure he’d be able to restrain his sweetie enough to make this work otherwise.

Honestly Wade doesn’t know who he thought he was kidding when he thought they could refrain from fucking. He has such a pathetic amount of self-control when it comes to his baby boy, and Petey has always used sex as a way to avoid uncomfortable conversations with him.

He can make this work, though. Peter is writhing in his lap, letting out frustrated little sounds as Wade loosens his grip even more, so he’s just gently tracing his way up and down his cock. It twitches a little when he brushes a knuckle under the sensitive head. God, his baby is about to come. Perfect.

Petey gets a little sex stupid, which makes it impractical to try to have a conversation. That doesn’t mean his baby boy can’t listen though. In fact, he’s probably going to listen better now than he would if he had his full faculties.

Perhaps it’s time that Wade tells Petey how he’s really feeling. They can start with that.

“You were being so good for me today, sweetie,” Wade says quietly, brushing his lips against Peter’s ear.

Petey moans and arches as much as he can in Wade’s hold. Wade grins as he continues to work his sweetheart up, giving him just a little bit more friction as he continues.

“Yeah, you were. So good. You let me give you flowers, let me buy you something nice, let me feed you.”

When his baby boy turns his head for a kiss, Wade indulges him. The kiss is lazy and slow, and he hums into Petey’s mouth when he feels a hand tenderly cup his jaw. He presses a few more kisses to the corners of his sweetheart’s lips and one to the tip of his nose.

“You didn’t try to fight me on any of it. That made me so happy.”

His baby boy is thrusting shallowly into Wade’s grip, and he can feel Pete’s fingertips twitching against his jaw. He’s so beautiful like this that Wade almost changes his plan. Almost.

He gives an overly dramatic sigh and releases his baby boy’s cock entirely.

“But then you had to let that guy ruin it, and you don’t even have the decency to tell me why.”

“Waaaaaaaaade,” Petey whines, unleashing the power of his big, beautiful eyes on him. Wade is a little proud of himself for managing to hold firm even in the face of that.

“See, it gives a guy ideas, you know?” He has to tighten his hold around Peter’s chest and has to use his other arm to hold his legs down as Peter tries to wiggle away. There’s no escaping this.

“Makes me wonder who this man is, that he can ruin our date. I’m a possessive guy, Petey,” he admits. “I don’t like it when you let other people ruin my time with you.”

“It-it’s not important,” Peter gasps. “Please, Wade, it doesn’t matter, _he_ doesn’t matter. I’m all yours.”

“I wish I could believe you, sweetheart,” Wade grinds up against his baby boy, unable to resist the temptation. “But if it really wasn’t a big deal you wouldn’t have been so upset. So, it must have been something pretty bad.”

Peter shakes his head and gives him a pleading look.

“So if it’s not what he said...is that man important to you Petey? Is he an ex I should be worried about?”

“No!” his baby boy very nearly shouts. “Brad’s a nobody. He’s just some asshole. I’m sorry. Please.”

Wade very carefully doesn’t let his delight show. Now he has a name. A name and a very cooperative Peter squirming in his lap.

“I believe you.”

He releases his baby boy’s legs so he can start stroking him hard and fast. Peter cries out at the sudden stimulation, and the sound makes Wade’s own cock twitch where it’s nestled between firm, warm muscles.

“There’s nothing to forgive, baby boy,” he lays open mouthed kisses up and down the column of that slim, pale throat when Petey throws his head back against Wade’s shoulder. “Just let yourself be good for me.”

“Please!” Every muscle is drawn tight and Wade can tell his sweetie is so, so close. Things said during sex aren’t particularly reliable, but right now Petey isn’t able to look for reasons to disagree. Maybe Wade can get something to stick, just a little bit.

“Do you want me to take care of you? 

“Yea-uh!”

“Alright,” Wade lets himself smile in victory. “Show me how good I take care of you, Petey.”

Peter goes rigid and soundless in his arms for a long moment as he starts to spill over Wade’s knuckles as he continues to work him through it. It isn’t until he starts to come down that broken moans work their way out.

It’s too much for Wade to handle. With a feral noise he grabs his baby boy’s hips and starts working him up and down his cock, pulling him into his thrusts. Petey is limp, letting himself be dragged along the length of it. It’s fast and vicious; when he feels himself catch against the rim of Peter’s relaxed hole, it’s over. He comes with a long, low groan, watching with a territorial sort of glee as his come splashes up his baby boy’s back.

Wade slumps into the couch, deeply satisfied and with a lap full of panting, sticky Petey. He lets his mind drift for a little bit, thinking of nothing in particular as they come down. By the time Wade recovers, Peter is limp against his chest, breathing slow and even.

“You asleep there?”

He only gets a belated, quiet hum for a reply.

So much for talking things out afterwards. Still, this is nice. Wade would be perfectly content to take a nap, too, if it didn’t mean leaving his sweetheart to wake up grumpy, cold, and covered in dried cum. Peter must really need the sleep though, because he barely stirs even when Wade shifts underneath him.

He barely even twitches when Wade picks him up and carries him to bed. When he returns with a warm washcloth, his honey bunny half-opens one eye as Wade cleans him up.

“Hey Petey,” he smiles as he carefully wipes him down. Peter’s eye slowly drifts shut and Wade feels a pleasant warmth that his grumpy, secretive boy is letting him do this.

“Petey, I’m gonna let you sleep,” Wade pokes him gently to keep him from fading back too quickly, “but first you have to tell me what your favorite type of pizza is.”

Peter’s face scrunches up grumpily, but in a molasses slow sort of way that makes Wade want to take pictures and coo. He doesn’t respond, though, and tries to close his eyes again, which simply won’t do.

“I’m serious,” Wade rests a hand on his shoulder and gives him a gentle shake. “Favorite pizza, then sleep.”

“Butter...squash...shroom,” his baby boy slurs at him, followed by a series of completely incomprehensible noises before he shuts his eyes again and determinedly shoves his face into the pillow.

It’ll have to do. Wade swaddles him up tightly in blankets, not wanting his Petey-pie to get cold, and resists the urge to record the not-quite snores of Peter’s sleepy breathing.

His master plan of getting Peter’s favorite pizza so he can wake up to dinner is somewhat foiled, not that it matters that much. He’ll just get some other food delivered.

For now, though, he’s in his thoroughly unconscious boyfriend’s apartment.

It would be utterly inappropriate to poke around. A violation of the hardwon trust Wade has cultivated.

So he starts with the drawer of the bedside table, since it’s probably the least invasive. After a quick inventory of its contents, Wade decides he needs to help expand his baby boy’s collection. There’s a bottle of lube, an open box of condoms, and precisely two dildos. The first is realistically shaped and not particularly large; both short and slim, although it looks like it’s in reasonably good quality. The other looks almost comedic next to it, easily twice as thick and a couple inches longer. Wade doesn’t miss the fact that it’s about the same size as he is.

He really, really hopes Petey bought it after their Halloween adventure. Has Petey even taken it yet, or is he still working up to it? The mental image of his baby boy spread out, slowly working himself open for something so much larger than he’d ever managed before has Wade palming himself.

Petey is right there, too. Wade could wake him up slowly, maybe with the smaller dildo to begin with. He could interrogate his blushing, stuttering sweetheart about the contents of his bedside table. Then he’d tease him until he’s nonverbal again and show his baby boy how much better the real thing is than the poor substitutes he’s got stashed in a drawer.

Wade leans over Petey’s slumbering form, about to unwrap the blankets before he snaps out of it. He can’t let this opportunity go to waste, even for that. Besides, he’ll have time for that later. Now that Petey is his, they‘ll have a lot of time for things like that. He shakes his head once, vigorously, to clear it and steps back.

For as large a man as Wade is, he can be surprisingly sneaky when he wants to be. He’s nearly silent as he closes the door of Peter’s bedroom behind him so he can check out the living room/kitchen area. He spotted Petey’s battered backpack in there, as well as a bookcase that had at least a couple of spiral bound notebooks in addition to the usual assortment of books.

The backpack, quite predictably, doesn’t have anything helpful. If Petey was handing it over to Weasel for safekeeping most nights, and then leaving it unattended when he visited Wade’s apartment long before he decided to let Wade in in any meaningful fashion. There’s no way he was keeping anything personal in there. His grumpy boy is far too smart for that.

The bookcase is where he strikes gold. The first thing he grabs turns out to be a photo album. From the note in the front cover, it looks like a graduation gift from his highschool friends ‘MJ and Ned’. Inside, there are pictures of a younger - though not by much- and significantly happier looking Petey. Most of the pictures also feature a beautiful, tall young woman who only smiles in about a quarter of the shots. The other main ‘guest’ is larger boy who looks to have all the grins the girl lacks. The girl must be MJ, since she really doesn’t seem like a Ned in Wade’s professional opinion.

It looks like Petey, MJ, and Ned all did Academic Decathlon together, as evidenced by the multiple team photos, many of which feature trophies. He wonders if Petey didn’t want to tell him that he did something that could identify him as a nerd, or if he never mentioned it because it would’ve given Wade an easier way to look him up before he was ready to tell Wade his identity on his own terms. Not that it really matters.

He decides he’s okay with Ned and MJ when he pauses on a selfie of them outside a restaurant. He nearly laughs when he has his epiphany, but manages to hold it in. He doesn’t want to wake Petey after all. It turns out the string of noises his baby boy made just before passing out were not gibberish, but the name of a restaurant.

A quick search for their menu confirms the existence of an elaborately named pizza featuring ‘butternut squash and a seasonal variety of wild mushrooms’. The place is surprisingly pricey and a touch more on the hipster side than Wade would have expected from Peter, and it’s nowhere near his apartment. They also don’t deliver, but that’s not actually a problem. A few texts and well-placed reminders of favors owed has his baby boy’s dinner scheduled to arrive in two and a half hours. He even makes sure to have orange soda and a can of whipped cream delivered too, since he cares.

Nothing in the rest of the album proves quite so enlightening or useful, unfortunately, so Wade returns it to the bookshelf and grabs the spiral notebooks instead.

Most of the pages are ripped out of the first one he looks at. The indents in the first several pages that are present make him think it’s either one of Petey’s old school notebooks, or a partially used one he found somewhere.

Petey has very tidy, small handwriting, because of course he does. It’s really nice, because it means he won’t have to spend a lot of time trying to figure out the letters he’s written. He just needs to figure out what the hell the words are supposed to mean.

There are three columns- the first of which appears to be names, although many of them must be either aliases or assumed names. Only about half even have a last name. The second column is an approximate location, and the third is a date and occasionally an estimate of a time. It’s all color coded, too.

He tries googling a couple of the names, but isn’t surprised when he doesn’t get anything useful, even when he tries the ones that aren’t obviously fake. It takes a few minutes to figure out what’s with the color coding too, which is a little embarrassing given how obvious it is. Most of the red names have locations that are street intersections, while the black ones tend to be buildings or subway stops. It isn’t until he sees a name associated with _Sister Margaret’s_ written in red that he puts it together.

Red for prostitutes. Black for...maybe homeless people, given the locations.

Whatever Petey is getting himself wrapped up in, it looks like he’s been at it awhile, and it looks complicated. Wade hopes it’s whatever he decided to take to Daredevil and Jones, because his sweet little Petey-pie shouldn’t be wrapped up in whatever the hell this is.

He flips the page and sees a few more names- bringing the total up to twenty two.

Well, twenty-three, but the last one is clearly different. One is written large and sloppy at the bottom of the page in blue ink. So, probably not on the same list as the others. Next to it, more tidily, is a phone number.

Whoever Eddie Brock is, Wade wants to ask him why the hell Petey has his phone number in his notebook of names. He snaps a picture of the page, just in case he decides he needs to look into it further. There isn’t anything else useful in that notebook, so he closes it and sets it aside to look at the next one. As soon as he realizes what it is, all thoughts of Eddie Brock and mysterious lists of names disappears.

Written out in meticulous, color coded numbers and one to two word descriptions, is a transcript for the last two years of his honey bunny’s life. In hard, numerical terms are the reasons why Petey turned to prostitution in his attempt to keep up with his bills; he could only cut down expendetures like _groceries_ so much, after all. He can track the day that his baby boy first did it, then when he did it a second time a couple weeks later, and then more frequently until it became his primary source of income.

The day Wade met Petey is one of the highest income days up to that point, though it does little to comfort him as he reads through the notebook. He can see where his sweetie pie does things like cut down on how much he eats around holidays and what must be birthdays so he can buy items he would never get for himself; things that clearly aren’t in the apartment, either. The most he sees Petey spend on himself is around Halloween of this year, for his special surprise for Wade.

There’s also an explanation for why, despite his clear increase in income, Petey doesn’t seem to be any less frugal or ready to deny himself any sort of luxury. Every single month, there is a payment labelled ‘For May’. It is never any less than his rent, and it’s the only expense that regularly increases. Petey has enough that he shouldn’t have to look into working a second job, even if he does decide not to return to _Sister Margaret’s._

Shouldn’t, except that he’s paying $1500 a month to this ‘May’, and it looks like he isn’t planning on cutting that down any time soon. He’s got the money already set aside for the next few months, meaning he’s living paycheck to paycheck again.

He’s not sure if he wants to go after Brad or May first, at this point.

“It’s funny,” Wade nearly jumps out of his seat on the couch at the sound of Petey’s raspy voice behind him. “They always gave us these free planners in school. Like, every single year. I hated them, never really used them at all.”

“Oh,” Wade responds. He’s shocked at how calm Petey looks, adorably sleep mussed, as he leans over the back of the couch to look at the open budget notebook.

“If you’re bored, I do have Netflix. Which I assume you’d know from looking at that,” Peter teases gently. “Or at least more interesting books.”

Wade’s not sure about that statement. This book is plenty fascinating.

“I’m getting dinner delivered,” Wade says, instead of anything that will ignite this potential powder keg of a situation.

“Mmm,” Petey sort of slithers over the back of the couch to sit down next to Wade. “I didn’t really feel like getting dressed to grab anything, and I’m a little sick of carrots and peanut butter. What did you get?”

“It’s a surprise,” Wade smiles and kisses Petey on the cheek, where his skin is indented from the creased sheets. “I hoped it would arrive before you woke up.”

“I can just nap here until you have everything set up,” his baby boy replies with a yawn, leaning heavily against him. “I’ll just get the TV set up for you,” he smiles sleepily as he starts fiddling around with a remote and an outdated looking laptop that he slides out from underneath the couch. Wade respectfully looks at the TV screen instead of Petey’s keyboard as he enters an impressively long password.

“Big fan of CNN?” Wade asks with a snort. In the bottom corner of the TV, the logo for the news station is burned into the screen.

“What?” Peter looks up, then laughs. “Nah, it was free. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Wade repeats as Petey pushes the laptop in front of him, surreptitiously closing the notebook and pulling them both out of easy reach.

“Watch whatever you want,” Petey instructs as he grabs an afghan- also stashed under the couch- over himself and lays his head on Wade’s lap. “I’m sleeping until food appears.”

“Sounds fair,” Wade nods and clicks on a show at random from the suggestions. True to his declaration, Petey is out almost immediately, letting Wade card his fingers through his hair. It’s getting just long enough to tangle a little bit, so he’s very careful to avoid tugging.

Petey’s reaction when he woke up was weird. He’d expected him to be raring to continue their little spat. Wade was even more surprised that he’d been apparently unbothered to find Wade looking through his stuff.

Petey must have been half-asleep still, or just too wiped out to care. When he wakes up again Wade has no doubt he’ll be back to being his grumpy self. He pays absolutely no attention to the show, instead focusing on petting and massaging Petey’s head and trying to figure out what to say when Petey wakes up for real.

There’s a loud rap on the door about three quarters of the way through the extra-long premier episode of whatever the hell Wade picked. Peter grumbles a little bit and blearily opens his eyes, but refuses to get up even when Wade slides out from underneath him to answer the door.

Usually he’d chat, but he’s really not sure where things stand with Petey right now and he’s nervous about letting his sweetie wake up fully. He might get all worked up if Wade isn’t there to talk him down immediately. So he just shoves an additional twenty bucks into Dopinder’s hand with a promise to catch up later after he grabs the food.

Petey is just starting to sit up, rearranging the blanket into a nest around himself when Wade emerges from the kitchen with a couple plates balanced on the pizza boxes in one hand and a large glass full of orange soda with a heap of whipped cream on top in the other. The slow smile that spreads across his baby boy’s face when he sees it reassures Wade slightly.

“Wow, you really went all out, didn’t you?” Petey scoots to make room for Wade, making grabby hands at the food.

“Of course,” Wade smiles and plops down next to him. There isn’t much conversation as Peter gorges himself, thanking Wade several times.

It’s more than Wade can take. He’d prepared for just about any type of confrontation with Petey except this- this complete lack of one.

“Who’s May?” he asks suddenly.

Peter looks at him quizzically, chewing the half piece of pizza he managed to get into his mouth at one time.

“Your highest expense is ‘For May’,” Wade continues. “Do you owe someone money? Are you being threatened?”

“No, Jesus,” Peter says around a mouthful of pizza. He swallows the half-chewed food. “She’s my foster mom, not some mob boss. Hah, mom boss.”

“So...what,” this is worse, somehow. Of course it would be something like this. No wonder Petey doesn’t want Wade buying stuff for him, if he thinks Wade will ask him to repay it later. Probably with interest, if the amount of money he’s sending is any indication. “She figures you owe her for giving you a place to live?”

“Wha-” Peter looks at him in absolute confusion before it smoothes out into comprehension, and then something like anger. “No. Nope. Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Petey, if she’s-” Wade starts, not finished yet.

“No, Wade. You aren’t making my foster mom into some villain you have to rescue me from.”

“Peter, that’s not what I’m doing,” he can’t let Peter dismiss it like this. Not if he’s putting himself in poverty, forcing himself into prostitution for it.

“I send money to my foster mom because she did a lot to help me, and now she needs help, so I’m going to help her,” Petey explains like it’s all so reasonable.

“Does she know?” Wade asks sharply. “What you’ve been doing to get that money?”

Peter looks like Wade just slapped him, “Of course not.”

“So she doesn’t care that you’ve been whoring yourself out for her?”

“That’s not what it’s like at all!” Peter stands suddenly.

“Then what is it like, Petey? Because from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look good.”

“You’re not making my foster mom into a villain that you get to rescue me from, Wade!” Peter shouts.

“What am I supposed to be doing, then?” Wade feels calmer than he thinks he should be.

“Sorry,” Peter whispers, then takes a step away from him. “Look, it’s not...I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“No, Peter, it’s not.”

“No, it really is,” his sweetie won’t look at him. “I keep...I’m really good at pushing people away, out of my business so they won’t ask, you know? But it doesn’t work on you. You’re so set on getting in, even when I try to keep you out, and it’s actually really, really nice? Like, I know that’s fucked up, but you won’t let me push you away, so maybe I push a little harder, just because it feels so good to see how much you…” he trails off for a moment, then takes a breath and looks at Wade’s lap, like he can’t quite make eye contact but he doesn’t want to be looking away.

“I don’t tell you things, so of course you go looking for answers. I was going to pretend my outburst earlier didn’t happen. Because it’s embarrassing, and because explaining it means telling you about some things I don’t want to talk about. I figured that you looking through my shit was just, like, fair payment, I guess. We both just wouldn’t talk about it, because it’s awkward. But you’re not like that at all, Wade. You’re all-” he gestures at the Deadpool suit. “ Evil plots and villains and stuff, and I know you feel like you have to save me and there’s got to be villains, but there _aren’t_. There’s just dumb, embarrassing stuff, and me being bad at talking about it.

“So. I’ll try to be more open. I’m going to suck at it, but I’ll really try. And in return, you’ve got to cut this out. You can’t go looking through my stuff, getting mad whenever I run into someone I know, trying to find someone you can blame for me being a fuck up so you can kill them and save me.”

Wade swallows thickly. What Peter is telling him is reasonable, sensical. As Deadpool, he is used to things being extreme, with masked villains and life or death stakes. The world most civilians live in, it’s not like that, though. Things are more...mundane, and sometimes awful, yes, but there isn’t usually one bad person behind it.

And, maybe in terms of Brad and May, Petey is right. They’re some asshole he knows and his foster mom who needs help and has been conditioned by Peter’s evasiveness not to look too closely at how he’s giving it to her.

But it’s still a lie. Wade saw the list of names, he heard Peter talking to Daredevil and Jessica Jones.

More than that, he’s seen his sweet little baby boy display a hell of a lot more strength than he should be able to, seen him show up with completely unblemished skin when he’d sucked bruises into his neck the night before. Peter is hiding something, and it’s not just embarrassing stories from his, obviously recent, childhood.

So maybe he really will try to be more open with Wade, and maybe he won’t. Wade can see the ultimatum he’s being given though. He’s got to trust Peter when he says that he’s okay. Even if it’s a lie. Because if he doesn’t, then Peter is going to leave him.

“You’re hardly a fuck-up, baby boy, but that sounds fair,” Wade smiles, earning an answering, watery grin from Petey. His baby boy comes back to the couch and climbs onto Wade’s lap. Wade kisses him, and they finish off the pizza and when Peter falls asleep again, Wade takes him back to his bed and climbs in next to him.

-

Wade leaves the next morning with Peter, who is a frenetic rush of energy trying to get his clothes on straight to head to work. He looks better today, less worn down. The wonders of eating enough to be full and getting enough sleep, he thinks.

Right before they part ways on the sidewalk, Petey goes on his tiptoes and gives Wade a kiss. It’s not a quick peck, either, and Wade finds his hands settling on his baby boy’s hips before he can help himself.

“I don’t work until the afternoon tomorrow,” his baby boy says with a blush. “Maybe we could do something? If you’re not busy?”

For a half a second, Wade thinks that maybe he should say no, that he has things to do. He needs to think about things, about how he’s going to deal with Peter’s evasiveness.

But then his mind goes to Petey’s bedside drawer, and all the things Wade hadn’t gotten to do with his baby boy last night. And if he lets Petey fend for himself, he won’t eat properly; Wade’s seen his refrigerator and knows from his budget that he won’t be buying more food any time soon.

“How about you come to my apartment tonight, then?” he suggests, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Petey swallows. “Yeah I can totally do that.”

Wade wonders for a second why he looks so nervous, before it occurs to him that this will be the first time he’ll be coming to his apartment as Peter, the boyfriend, instead of Ben the prostitute.

“I’ll make dinner,” Wade promises. “Let me know when you’re on your way so I can make sure it’s hot.”

“You’re the best,” Petey breathes, then presses a firm kiss to his lips before he takes off down the sidewalk at a near run. Wade watches, amused, as his baby boy dodges and slides between other pedestrians, somehow managing to avoid knocking someone’s coffee over or elbowing a little old lady in the head. It’s kind of impressive.

Once Petey is out of sight Wade pulls his phone.

“Yo, Dopinder!” he lets himself fall into his usual cheerful affectation. “Wanna pick me up? Same place you dropped the food off yesterday.”

As much as he tries to be sympathetic, his heart isn’t really in it when Dopinder pours out his latest round of relationship troubles regarding the utterly unobtainable Gita. He’s pretty sure he gives some exceptionally bad relationship advice before high-fiving his favorite, borderline creepy taxi driver.

He’s upset that his baby boy is lying to him. But then, he remembers all the other things that had been said. The things that weren’t lies.

Peter _likes_ how hard Wade pursues him.

There’s no way that’s healthy, but it makes a lot of sense. Wade might be the first person whose love he can rely on enough to test. Almost from the beginning, Peter has been...difficult, but for whatever reason, Wade can’t help but chase after him. It’s a kind of security, isn’t it? To be able to push away and run off and be as difficult as he can, and still have Wade waiting for him.

It’s a little bratty, and he’s going to have to cut it out eventually, but his baby boy seems aware of that. And now that Wade realizes what’s going on, it’s kind of sweet.

Petey wants to be chased. He’s been so busy trying not to be too forward, but Petey just admitted to his face that he _wants_ him to do it. That he actively tries to get Wade to do it.

He can work with this. Petey’s continuing evasiveness and half-truths are a complication, yes, but nothing is ever satisfying if it goes totally according to plan. Petey wants to be chased, but he doesn’t want Wade to be too obvious or heavy handed about it.

That’s workable.

Tonight, he’s going to shower Petey with affection, starting with a nice, home cooked meal. Pizza is delicious and filling, and the one they had last night had a lot more veggies on it than Wade originally anticipated, but he still has to make sure his baby boy is getting everything he needs to stay healthy. Especially because Petey doesn’t seem overly concerned with it himself.

Perhaps it’s inevitable that he would end up in Sister Margaret’s, pouring everything out to an unimpressed looking Weasel. To be fair, he’d tried to occupy himself with other things. He’d gone grocery shopping, got the chicken marinating in the fridge, and showered. Hell, he’d even cleaned up his apartment a bit, and was thinking about just sitting down to watch a movie or jacking off for a couple hours when Petey texted him.

**I have to stay late. Is 7ish ok?**

After shooting back a quick affirmative reply, Wade gave up trying to avoid it, and made the short trip to check in on his bestest, most disgruntled buddy.

“You have a phone, you could at least give me some warning,” Weas grouses as he unlocks the door for Wade. He had been pressing his face against the grimy glass, making faces at Weasel, who made a valiant but ultimately pointless attempt to ignore him.

“Sounds like a you problem,” Wade waves off the complaint and settles down at a table, waiting for Weas to plop down with him. It’s their thing, when Wade isn’t vying for his attention while Weasel is working.

“I’m assuming you’re here about you problems,” Weasel slides into the chair with his usual bored affect, but Wade can see the sharp, calculating look in his eyes.

“All those men who complain about not being able to understand women have clearly never tried dating my baby boy,” Wade starts with a huff.

“Domestic bliss isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, huh?”

“Oh fuck off Weas, Ness and I were plenty domestic,” Wade grumbles, picking at the grime accumulated in a seam on the table.

“So what’s the problem with your elusive callboy this time?”

“He’s still keeping secrets and lying to me,” Wade sighs.

“Yeah, no shit,” Weasel rolls his eyes. “Look, has it occurred to you that you’re just hyper-focusing on him because it’s distracting you from how otherwise terrible you feel? And that as a result of that, you’re developing some blind spots and just seeing what you want with him?”

“Wow. Thanks for the moral support there, bro.” It stings a little, even though he knows that Weasel isn’t entirely wrong. He never would have looked at Peter twice if Vanessa were still alive, that much is true. And maybe he’d be more patient if he wasn’t so heartbroken, but he’s always fallen in love fast and hard.

“I’m just saying, you’re so wrapped up in what you like about that kid that you’re not noticing all the reasons why he’s weird.”

Wade just looks at him in confusion for a moment, before Weasel deigns to explain.

“I know you totally dig that kinda sweet, innocent energy of his. Kinda rare in the types that hang around here, right? I mean, you’ve gotta have some pretty serious fuck-off vibes to deal with the crowd I cater to. And he won’t let anyone fuck that cute little ass of his?” Weasel shuts down Wade’s angry objection with a raised eyebrow. “Like a lamb to the slaughter. I was worried I’d have a body in the alley as soon as I saw him walk in here.”

“People don’t mess with the whores here because they know what’ll happen if they do,” Wade points out. The others will generally pitch in to put a gold card on whoever did it. The other mercenaries are usually happy enough to take out the competition, or annoyed enough at being denied time with their favorite squeeze, that they’ll do it for pretty cheap, too.

“Once they have friends,” Weasel concedes. “But Benny boy didn’t have friends here. He barely does now. I can only do so much, and only when he’s here. I know some of the guys went after him that first week. And I do mean guys. Plural. They were pissed when he told them they couldn’t fuck him properly.”

Wade does not like where this story is going.

“So imagine my surprise when he shows up the next night, totally fine,” Weasel leans back. “Didn’t see the other guys for a week, and they didn’t give him any trouble after that.”

“Huh.” It does make a certain amount of sense; Wade’s noticed his strength, and the fact that he can keep up with Wade’s stamina. So Petey can protect himself. It’s a little reassuring to know.

“Just be careful with him.”

“If you’re so worried, why let him hang around?” It’s a fair question, for all that Weasel seems like he doesn’t care, he’s very protective of _Sister Margaret’s_. He has to be, or the FBI or SHIELD or some other group of assholes would swoop in and shut him down.

“I kept a close enough eye to tell he isn’t a threat to me,” Weasel shrugs. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t one to you. Like, emotionally.”

“I appreciate the concern,” Wade replies dryly. Weasel is probably just worried Wade will lose his shit and cause property damage to the bar. Or kill a bunch of his patrons.

“I can check into him if you like,” Weasel offers. “Just give me a name. Or not. That would make it faster, but I can do it even if he hasn’t told you yet.”

It’s a tempting offer. Wade is good at gathering information on targets, but he’s got nothing on Weasel. The other man could get so many more details, and he wouldn’t risk alerting and upsetting Peter in the process.

If Petey ever _did_ find out, though, it would be a possibly irreparable breach of trust. More than that, Wade would have to share Petey’s information with Weasel. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Weasel, but...he doesn’t trust Weasel. If he does find out something interesting about Wade’s baby boy, he’ll probably find a way to make a profit off it, even if that ends up being bad for Petey.

“I’ll do this the old fashioned way, but thanks for the offer,” he declines.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” Weasel grins.

The talk with Weasel doesn’t really assuage any of his concerns, but then, conversations with Weasel don’t ever really do that. The only person he could talk about this sort of thing was Ness, and that’s not going to work for some pretty obvious reasons.

He imagines holding a seance to ask his dead fiance dating advice about his new, much younger boyfriend. She would probably switch between reaming Wade for pursuing Peter in the first place and giving him advice on how to better ream his baby boy.

The thought is more entertaining than painful.

Unfortunately he lacks the time and equipment necessary to attempt to commune with the dead for their dating advice, so Wade has to make do with himself. Weasel gave him a lot to think about, and he’s even less sure of what he should do regarding Peter than he was before.

When Petey shows up around 7:30, Wade hasn’t decided what he plans on doing aside from making dinner and hopefully having some snuggle time with his Petey pie.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” Petey apologizes as soon as Wade opens the door for him. As if he hadn’t texted Wade even before seven to let him know he was going to be even later than he’d originally thought.

Wade grins as Peter practically flings himself into Wade’s arms. He’s adorable in his oversized sweatshirt, its long sleeves reaching past his fingertips. When Wade slips his hands up underneath, he’s pleased to find that his baby boy isn’t wearing anything under it.

It’s a simple enough thing to kick the door closed and check Petey for more inexplicable injuries under the pretense of a hug. As soon as his featherlight touch reaches too-prominent ribs, his baby boy jolts in his grasp, squealing and wiggling against him.

Ah yes, Petey’s delightful ticklishness.

He can work with this.

Wrapping one arm securely around Petey’s middle, Wade continues his assault on all the most sensitive, ticklish spots he can reach. Peter is too busy laughing and thrashing to keep Wade from dragging him over to the couch, where he deposits his giggling prize with a light push.

“What the hell, Wa-aaaaaaade!” Petey’s attempt at fixing him with his grumpy face is cut short when his sweatshirt is shoved up. It’s all in the name of tickling, of course, as Wade traces his fingers over the spot that always makes Petey shriek.

His baby boy arches up off the couch, then tries to squirm his way away from the touch, giving Wade a perfect view of his bare torso.

A few light bruises and abrasions, but nothing terrible. He hasn’t been getting as badly hurt lately, which is something of a relief.

When he has Petey thoroughly breathless, he delivers the coup de grace- blowing a sloppy raspberry into his sternum.

“Noooo!” Petey howls as he curls up around Wade, “That’s so weird, stop itttttt!”

Even when he stops, Wade nuzzles against Peter’s skin for a few more seconds, reveling in the way his sweetie stays bent around him in a strange sort of embrace. He can feel where Petey is hard against his abs, although his baby boy is too well-mannered to try grinding up against Wade like this. When he finally withdraws, Peter flops backwards, pulling his sweatshirt back down with only mild success; It’s still hiked up in the back, where it’s caught between him and the couch cushions. He’s beautiful like this, all mussed, pink and panting.

“I’m gonna put the chicken in the oven,” Wade announces, as if he hadn’t just tickled Petey within an inch of his life. Petey nods, closing his eyes and taking deep, calming breaths.

Wade’s a little impressed. He’d thought he could get Petey to exhibit some of that super-strength he so obviously has if he managed to get him to thrash around enough while being tickled. But while Petey had been a little harder to hold onto than Wade might expect someone his size to be, he hadn’t managed to hurt Wade at all. In fact, he hadn’t tried to strike out at Wade at all, or even really push him away.

Maybe it’s something he’s already had to figure out. There’s no way someone hasn’t taken advantage of how ticklish Petey is before. The appeal of having him laid out and writhing like that is just too much.

Wade frowns at the pan of chicken and tray of veggies as he closes the oven door. Whoever’s seen Petey like that before had better have appreciated it.

“Can I help at all?” Petey has managed to mostly regain his composure, although his hair is still a mess and the color hasn’t quite left his face yet.

“Sure!” Wade exclaims brightly, then shoves a bowl full of water and torn up leaves at him. “Massage the baby kale, if you would.”

“What?”

“Just, like, gently rub it with your fingers. It makes it a lot less tough,” Wade explains. For someone who claims to work in a grocery store, Petey sure doesn’t know his way around produce.

Maybe the grocery store job story is just a cover, and Petey is actually using that time to do...something. Probably something that isn’t even very nefarious. Like kidnapping animals scheduled for euthenasia at overcrowded animal shelters and rehoming them. Something technically illegal but still somehow good and cute. Maybe he even wears a cute little bunny outfit while he does it. With a tail.

Probably not that last part, but it’s hard not to imagine it when he thinks of Peter and cute and animals.

It would explain some of the injuries, at least.

But then Petey starts talking and Wade realizes that yes, he must really work at a grocery store.

“We had to restock the butter like, five times today!” Petey is diligently massaging the kale in the bowl full of salt water. “Gwen says she likes to imagine it’s just one person coming through with a shopping cart and just filling it up with all the butter. Like, grabbing it in both arms and just piling it in,” Petey grins as he tells the story. It’s probably one of those ‘had to be there’ sorts of things, but it’s Petey’s amusement that’s adorable.

“Gwen?” Wade asks as he grabs the ingredients for his super special home-made salad dressing.

“Yeah, she’s my age and super nice. We work a lot of the same shifts, so,” Petey shrugs, and when Wade makes sure to look encouraging and not jealous, he starts telling Wade all about Gwen From Work.

Gwen From Work goes to ESU and works at the grocery store on the side because it’s close to where her dad lives. Her dad is a police officer, which Peter informs him with a little scrunch of his nose. Gwen is worried about her dad’s ability to take care of himself, so she lives at home with him to make sure he eats and sleeps properly. Wade can sympathize with her plight.

Wade takes the bowl of kale from Petey and gives him the bowl with the vinaigrette ingredients and a fork with instructions to whisk, and continues to listen to Petey tell him everything about his day.

He doesn’t have to carry the conversation for once, and it’s kind of a relief. It’s also a relief that Petey is at least trying to take his promise to be more open a little bit seriously.

There’s still nothing about the names in the notebook, and no mention of anything that might explain why Petey is getting roughed up, but it’s something. It’s enough to ease that knot of frustration in his chest just a little bit.

The second Wade puts food in front of his baby boy, though, he shuts right up. It’s a little comical to watch Peter’s expression when he tries each thing.

“Oh my god, Wade, it’s all so good!” he exclaims before diving back in with vigor.

It is good. Petey is actually an excellent kale massager and vinaigrette mixer. He managed not to mash the leafy greens, which Wade was kind of looking forward to seeing. He made up for it with his whisking though, because the oil and vinegar still hasn’t separated. Wade’s going to see if he can have Petey make whipped cream the next time his electric mixer is on the fritz.

“So,” Peter asks as he dries the dishes while Wade washes, “How was your day?”

He’s been trying to figure out how to deal with the fact that his sweetie is still keeping some pretty big secrets from him, for one thing. Coming to terms with the fact that it took him over a month to get his boyfriend’s actual name and Petey seems to be using that as a guide for how fast he should let Wade know _anything_ about himself.

“Pretty good,” Wade says, instead of all of that. He’s not even lying, either. As irritating as Peter’s continuing caginess is, Wade finds it a small price to pay for this fragile contentment.

“Oh?” It’s a clear invitation to elaborate, but Wade doesn’t really feel like it. He doesn’t really feel like finishing the dishes, either, so he pulls the drain, content to let the last few plates and forks sit overnight.

“Yup!” he pops the ‘p’ and turns to Petey, gently pulling the glass he’s drying out of his hands.

Wade has some vague notions of sex when he coaxes his Petey-pie out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom, but he decides shower sex isn’t worth it unless you’re really desperate. When they get out, he decides to give Petey one of his shirts to use as ‘jammies’- Peter’s term, not his- because seeing Petey-pie clad only in one of Wade’s shirts again has been #goals ever since that first morning, and he’s not missing his chance.

Then, when they’re snuggled into bed, with his baby boy as the little spoon, Wade decides he’d rather cuddle. They’d get all sweaty again if they fucked, and Petey looks so comfortable, and Wade’s feeling a touch lethargic himself, so he’s not enthused at the prospect of taking another shower.

-

The tradeoff to being Petey’s boyfriend is that he isn’t his sweetie’s job anymore.

And Petey works a lot.

He doesn’t make as much money working at the grocery store or the café, so Petey takes as many hours as he can, volunteering to cover for people as much as possible.

Wade has managed to coax his baby boy into coming over to his apartment most nights by promising him food and cuddles. Petey tells Wade about his day, but he’s usually so exhausted by the time he’s at the apartment and eating dinner that the conversation dies out relatively fast.

Some nights Wade is able to keep it going by rambling, though he hasn’t been feeling as chatty lately, which is somewhat unusual, but not as much as most of his associates seem to think. When Wade isn’t constantly prattling on, they start to harass him about his feelings and shit, so even when he doesn’t want to, Wade usually just spouts bullshit to keep them off his back. That isn’t necessary with Peter, which is a relief.

Vanessa always picked up the slack for him in times like this, would goad him into their usual verbal dances and spars. Peter can be just as snarky too, but it seems like working around people for ten or more hours a day drains most of his energy for that.

Instead, they’ve fallen into a pattern of existing in close proximity, speaking when they want to, but for the most part just reading or watching TV while maintaining physical contact.

The gentle drag of his baby boy’s fingers along his scars feels pleasant tonight. Petey a very tactile person, Wade’s noticed, and that suits him just fine most of the time. One of the things he does when they’re just sitting together is to follow the ever-changing patterns of Wade’s scars. He’s certain it isn’t a conscious thing, because there’s never any real intent, and he never really looks at what he’s doing. Just enjoying the texture, really. Maybe he finds it grounding while he reads, or maybe he’s just a fidgety person and needs to be doing something with his hands.

Some nights Wade can’t stand the touch. It’s not painful, not really. It’s just irritating, like he’s touching an exposed nerve that leads straight to whatever part of his brain makes him mad. He never wants to be mad at his baby boy, so when he starts feeling it creeping up, he’ll catch those delicate hands and pull them away, then put his mask and gloves on. The first time it happened, his honey-bunny was confused for a second before he realized what he had been doing. He’d apologized profusely, and it had helped cool that raw, throbbing rage enough for Wade to explain that sometimes it’s fine, and sometimes he can’t stand to be touched.

Tonight, it is soothing. Wade’s watching a strangely addictive, yet trashy show that’s only on Netflix for a few more weeks so he has to get through all eight seasons before then, and Petey is reading some weird book involving plows and dead bodies.

This, right here, is almost exactly what Wade wanted when he first started pursuing Peter. By all accounts he should be on cloud nine.

Maybe it’s his comeuppance for trying to move on from Vanessa after only a year. His brain chemistry fucking him over once again because he’s too pathetic to keep his promise to stay alone forever.

Pre-Deadpool, he had a pretty good handle on things. He had a good rapport with his psychiatrist, managed to figure out a combination of medications that helped and built a repertoire of coping mechanisms to work through what the drugs couldn’t.

Now he’s immune to his meds and any physical consequences for his actions.

It’s not a good combination.

Ness, bless her, had known exactly what she was getting into as soon as Wade explained his powers. He hadn’t even needed to say anything before she was outlining a plan for how they were going to deal with his swings. Ness always had a plan. She was more of a fighter in some ways than Wade, had the strength to keep him from falling to low and ground him when he was going high.

Peter doesn’t know, and Wade doesn’t want to tell him yet. It’s too early for that sort of thing, and he doesn’t want Petey to feel like he has to be some sort of emotional support animal for him. Even if that was sort of the reason Wade latched onto him in the first place. He knows now how selfish that was and that his sweetie deserves better than that.

He also feels like he’s perfectly justified in withholding that particular bit of personal information, because Petey’s the reigning champion of hiding things.

The excuse Wade gives himself for why he’s not telling Petey yet depends on his mood, and if that’s not indicative of a problem, he doesn’t know what is. Too bad self-awareness only helps so much.

It certainly doesn’t help with the nasty little whispers in his head reminding him about Petey’s notebook and Eddie Brock. He shouldn’t have taken a picture; it lets him obsess too much. Hell, he probably shouldn’t have dug through his baby boy’s things at all.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Peter’s head falling heavily onto his lap. He’s fallen asleep, his book still held loosely in his fingers, the corner of his mouth just a little wet with drool. It’s so precious Wade could cry.

Carefully, so he doesn’t wake his sleepy bunny up, Wade turns off the TV and extracts the book, sliding a scrap of paper in as a bookmark and setting it on the coffee table. When he carries his dozing Petey-pie to bed and curls up around him, Wade feels a little bit of that happiness.

He’s got to deal with his paranoia about his baby boy. He’ll just check in on him a little; Wade knows Petey wouldn’t do anything like that. Once he knows for sure, he’ll be able to quell the nasty thoughts and be happy.

-

Wade tries the phone number first.

He types it into his phone and deletes it five times before he finally hits ‘call’.

It rings for a long time. Long enough that Wade is pretty sure it should have gone to voice mail a couple times over, when someone picks up.

“Hello? Who is this?” A worried female voice comes across the line.

“Is Eddie Brock there?” Wade asks, because he didn’t really think this far ahead.

“Who is this?” The woman sounds more alarmed.

“Do you know Eddie Brock?” Wade repeats, because he’s pretty sure if he tells the woman who he is, it’ll get back to Peter and his grumpy bunny will get incredibly pissed off. He really, really didn’t think this through.

“How did you get this number?” she nearly shrieks.

Before Wade can reply, she’s hung up.

Well, that didn’t help.

-

Wade tails Peter after work the next day.

He feels guilty about it, but it’s for the best. Once he puts his crazy suspicions to rest, then things will be good. His sweetie can continue to keep some of his secrets, just as long as Wade knows that they’re not the ones he’s afraid of.

As soon as his baby boy steps out into the alley behind the café, he pulls out his cellphone and texts Wade. When his phone buzzes, he checks it to see a funny cat picture, and the mundanity of it makes some of the tightness in his chest ease. It’s going to be fine and Wade’s going to feel really fucking silly about all this.

He feels a little less certain when Petey starts walking down a street that goes to neither of their apartments. When he slides into a building that Wade doesn’t recognize, glancing around quickly to make sure there isn’t anyone around to see him, he’s starting to feel concerned.

It feels like Peter is in there forever, and Wade is beginning to worry about his safety. He’s convincing himself that his baby boy just got blackmailed into something terrible and he needs rescuing when Peter re-emerges, looking disheveled.

It feels like there’s a nest of hornets buzzing in his ears, and Wade feels bile rising in his throat. He almost misses the buzz of his phone going off.

It’s another text from Peter.

**Be over soon!**

-

Wade beats Peter to the apartment.

He doesn’t heat up leftovers for dinner, like he had planned on earlier.

He doesn’t take off the Deadpool suit or disarm, either.

Wade won’t hurt him, he never would, but he wants Peter to be a little bit scared. To feel a fraction of what Wade did when he was sitting on the fire escape and waiting for Peter to come out of that building.

Petey knocks, and Wade tells him it’s unlocked, his voice rough with emotion.

When Peter opens the door and spots Wade standing in the middle of the apartment, tense and all but snarling, he freezes.

“Wade?”

Peter doesn’t look rumpled anymore, Wade notices. That little shit. How often does he do this? How many nights has he cuddled Wade, after?

“Who’s Eddie Brock?” Wade asks, his voice impressively even for how mad he is. It’s mostly a shot in the dark, but there’s something about the way that name was written in that notebook that’s been bothering him ever since he saw it.

Peter’s reaction confirms Wade’s suspicion.

“What?”

“Eddie Brock, who is he?”

“How do you know that name?” Peter steps into the apartment, carefully closing the door behind him. He probably doesn’t want to cause a scene in front of all of Wade’s neighbors. Wade is glad for once that Peter never backs down from confrontation.

“Just answer the question, Peter.”

“There’s a reporter based in San Francisco named Eddie Brock,” he responds in a carefully bland voice. “He’s kind of in disgrace because of some poorly thought-through interviews and some questionable ethical choices.”

“Thanks, Wiki-Petey, but who is Eddie Brock to you?”

“What the fuck is this about?” Peter is starting to get more angry than confused, and Wade’s almost glad for it.

“His name is in your little name book. Who is he to you?”

“Jesus fuck, Wade! Stop going through my shit!”

“Stop lying to me and I will!” Wade shouts back, carefully not letting himself reach for a weapon, as much as he wants to. It was a mistake not to lock them away.

“It’s not lying not to tell you every little fucking thing about my life, Wade,” Peter is pacing now, looking for all the world like a spitting mad cat.

“How about you tell me _anything_ about your life?” Wade hisses back.

“I tell you a lot! I don’t pry into every private detail of your life and past, Wade!”

It’s true. Peter barely ever asks about Wade’s past.

“I don’t ask you to tell me about Vanessa, do I? Because I don’t want to hear about how I won’t live up to how amazing she was! I don’t ask about things that I know won’t do anything but hurt both of us!”

Wade feels himself go cold.

“Vanessa is dead, though.”

There’s a look of horror and regret on Peter’s face, as it dawns on him what a stupid thing he just said.

“Vanessa is dead, or I’d still be with her, but Eddie Brock isn’t dead, is he?” Wade advances towards Peter, unable to keep himself from doing so. “No, he’s not, because you were just visiting him. But you’d compare him to Ness, huh?”

“Shit, no, Wade, it’s not like that,” Peter is retreating, looking more scared than angry.

“Then what is it like?” Wade presses, stalking towards Peter with more purpose, now.

“I… not like that. I’d never do that to you Wade, I promise,” Peter pleads

“What is it like, Peter,” Wade has Peter backed almost against the wall, now.

“I can’t...I’m sorry, I can’t, but it’s not like that.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Wade barks out on a humorless laugh, right in Peter’s face.

“I think I should go,” Peter whispers, flinching away from Wade.

“Yeah,” Wade sneers, taking a step back and crossing his arms over his chest so he doesn’t do something he regrets. “I think you should.”

Peter flees.

-

Wade yells at nothing, and pounds on his couch, his bed, anything he’s reasonably sure he won’t completely destroy by hitting, and a few things he knows he’ll break but doesn’t care much about.

Then he takes a shower and cries, before laying awake in bed for hours, having somehow managed to give himself a headache.

Wade swings wildly between hating Peter and hating himself.

He can barely bring himself to get out of bed. When he does, he watches that show he needs to finish. He gets through two seasons that day before passing out on the couch. He wakes up hungry and realizes he hasn’t eaten since before his and Petey’s fight.

Wade stumbles to the fridge but doesn’t see anything appealing. When he opens the freezer, he sees Peter’s wildberry toaster strudels. The sight of the frozen pastries fills him with rage and he yanks the box out, throwing it against the counter as hard as he can.

Staring at the mangled box, he remembers he’s still hungry, and grabs them, going back to the couch to watch more TV, while eating Peter’s toaster strudels frozen. Some of them broke when Wade threw them against the counter, but he eats every single one. Then he opens each frosting packet and squeezes it into his mouth.

It’s sickly sweet.

Peter loves sickly sweet things.

Wade wishes he could get sick.

-

His phone buzzes. A lot.

They’re all texts from Peter, he’s sure, because no one else bothers anymore.

-

He finishes season eight, and it sucks.

It sucks almost as much as Wade’s life. He’d go assassinate the writers if he had the motivation to get off the couch.

He starts another series, and this one doesn’t even start good, but there are fourteen seasons and that’s good enough for him.

His phone buzzes again. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just turn it off. Maybe he’s just too lazy to unplug it from the charger, or maybe he likes torturing himself, or maybe he likes knowing that Peter’s desperate to get ahold of him.

That little _shit_.

-

Wade’s not sure when he fell asleep, but he’s woken by his phone.

_Wise men say only fools rush in_

_But I can't help falling in love with you_

_Oh, shall I stay, would it be a sin_

_Oh, if I can't help falling in love with you?_

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea_

_Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be_

_Take my hand, take my whole life too_

_Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you_

His choice in ringtone for Peter is entirely regrettable now, given the circumstances. Every time he hears that cursed song from now on he’s either going to get angry or cry.

He lets it go to voicemail, holding a cushion over his head and groaning to try to drown the sound out.

It’s only just stopped when it starts up again.

Wade’s tempted to shoot the damn thing.

Then it starts a third time, and something in him breaks. He grabs it and jabs his finger at the screen to answer.

“ _What?”_ he growls.

“Wade?” Petey sounds like some combination of relieved, panicked, and a little like he’s crying. “I think I fucked up.”

Wade’s about to give a sarcastic reply or just hang up when he notices that the wet, shuddery breathing doesn’t sound like Peter’s crying so much as he’s struggling to breathe.

“Right,” his sweetie breathes over the phone. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry. And I never, ever cheated on you. I just wanted you to know that,” he laughs, but it’s a short sound, cut off by a hiss of pain. “I’m not sure if that’s more or less cruel to say, but I thought you’d rather know, right?”

“Baby boy,” the words slip out of Wade’s mouth, “what’s going on?”

“It’s fine,” his honey bunny reassures him.

“Where are you?” Wade is getting more alert by the second, trying to figure out what he’s hearing over Petey’s labored breathing and words.

“It’s fine,” he repeats weakly.

“Where are you, Petey?” Wade growls.

“Central Park,” he laughs weakly, “It’s a real romantic date spot, or it would have been.”

“Are you in danger?” Wade interrupts, sitting up quickly and starting to hunt around his apartment for his suit and weapons, “Is talking to me putting you in more danger?”

“No.”

“How did you get hurt?”

“Shit,” he hears his sweetie curse, somewhat muffled as if it’s said away from the phone. Then, more clearly, “It’s fine, Wade. I’ll call you back, okay?” the way Petey is saying it tells Wade that his bunny boy will most certainly not be calling Wade back.

-

Wade doesn’t remember getting to Central Park.

He arrives to a pitched battle between inky, bipedal creatures wielding very pointy teeth and long tongues and an odd assortment of Avengers and Defenders. One sprouts tentacles and flings a slightly battered looking Cage several yards and Wade adds shape shifting and super strength to their list of abilities.

There only are a half dozen of them, but they appear to be giving the assembled heroes a hard time.

Wade would help, but he has his own priorities.

He finds Petey slumped against a tree. One of the creatures is approaching, and Wade cuts it down before it can get any closer, not wanting to take any chances.

It looks like one of the monsters tried to take a bite out of his baby boy, and there’s a gruesome slash across his chest. The way blood pools around where Petey has his hands pressed against his stomach makes Wade’s stomach churn.

At least with Vanessa it had been fast. At least when she was killed, they’d both known with all their hearts that they loved each other.

He’s going to have to watch Petey die in front of him, with the mess of their last real conversation – their _fight_ \- hanging over Wade’s head.

“Hi Wade,” his baby boy says, his voice thready and lips tinged blue.

“Hi sweetheart,” Wade’s voice comes out strangled as he drops to his knees next to Petey.

“You didn’t have to come,” his sweetie mumbles, “but I’m glad you did.”

Wade wants to say something like ‘of course I did’, but he very nearly didn’t pick up the phone, very nearly _didn’t_ come, so all he can do is choke out an affirmative as he tries to survey the extent of the damage. Maybe it looks worse than it is. Maybe it’ll be okay.

As soon as he pulls the layers of Petey’s jackets and shirt back, he realizes it won’t be.

A glance around the park for someone, _anyone_ who could help, who could maybe save his sweetie is similarly demoralizing. It’s made worse by the fact that he sees one of the monsters _eating_ a downed civilian, even as Jessica starts to haul it back to throw it into Iron Fist’s namesake.

Wade might not be able to keep his baby alive, and he might not be able to just sit here and watch the light go out of his eyes, but he can keep the creatures from devouring him.

They hadn’t even been able to have an open casket for Ness. He’s going to make sure that he and…and May, he supposes, get at least that much this time.

Any time one of the creatures comes near, Wade cuts it down. He realizes that they heal from most injuries and will reform but shoving a grenade inside them seems to do the trick.

Petey loses and regains consciousness a few times, his pulse weak but persistent. Wade is torn between hope that by some miracle he’ll pull through and the heavy knowledge that there’s no way he _can_ , and the kindest thing for him to do now would be to end his suffering.

He can’t do that, though, so instead he keeps this one tree defended from the carnage unfolding around him.

It takes both forever and no time at all for the heroes to gain the upper hand. Part of the change in tides seems to be the presence of one of the creatures turning on its own.

The end of the fight both is and isn’t a relief. Wade has nothing to focus on now except Peter. He should say goodbye. He should apologize, he should do everything he can to make his baby boy as comfortable as possible in his final moments. Wade doesn’t want to return to his side and find that he’s already dead. He doesn’t want to watch him die, either. He’s a selfish, weak man. As many people as he’s killed, he can barely force himself to stumble the few yards over to Peter.

Trembling, Wade crouches by Peter’s side, relieved to see the small puffs of condensation from shallow breaths. His hands hover uselessly over him, afraid to touch but wanting desperately to hold his sweetheart close.

Not long ago Wade remembers clutching his sweetheart close and thinking how he could protect him, keep him safe in his arms. It’s far too late for that, now.

“How you doing, Pete?” he asks, not knowing what else to say, but wanting to check if he’s still responsive.

“Cold,” his sweetie mumbles.

“And here I forgot my jacket,” Wade jokes weakly, “damn.”

“Damn,” Petey echoes, his lips twitching in a weak attempt at a smile. Wade would like to cuddle, to hold his baby boy and keep him warm by blanketing him with his own body, but he’s afraid the contact would jostle him and cause him even more pain. Instead, he settles on running his fingers though Peter’s hair, wincing a little when it catches on tangles caused by freezing blood.

Petey doesn’t seem to notice the tugging, leaning into the touch. Or maybe he’s just collapsing even more from the blood loss and shock; Wade has no idea.

“Glad you’re here,” Peter whispers, his eyes closed. He looks so pale, even more than usual. Wade already misses the way he’d flush such a pretty pink when they were together. Out of annoyance, amusement, or arousal, it was always so easy to get him rosy-cheeked and bright eyed.

Fuck, he’s already starting to idolize the boy and he isn’t even dead yet. Not that it will be long now, but still.

“I’m sorry, Petey,” Wade tells him hoarsely. And he is, he’s so damn sorry about so many things. About essentially ghosting Petey for however long he’s been out of it, for not coming sooner, for not being able to save him, for somehow being part of the sequence of events that led to Peter being where he is right now, waiting for death against a tree in Central Park with only Deadpool here to comfort him.

He doesn’t get an answer, but then he wasn’t really expecting one. Wade alternates between not being able to look and not being able to look away. The heroes are just cleaning up, now. All the creatures save one herded into whatever contraption Mr. Fantabulous or Iron Man came up with on the fly to contain them. The remaining creature is scanning the area, obviously looking for something. When its large, blank eyes land on Wade and Peter, it freezes.

Despite knowing it’s with the heroes, Wade tenses up when it lopes towards them on all fours, covering the distance with great speed. He’s on his feet in an instant, reaching for his katana, since most bullets barely seemed to slow the things down earlier.

It slows and straightens to a walk as it approaches, and the inky black flesh recedes to reveal a dumpy looking man in a dirty gray hoodie. He looks like garbage, his eyes flitting quickly between Wade and Peter, tongue flicking out to wet chapped lips.

“Peter?” he rasps, staggering towards the tree where Peter is slumped. The man seems to have deemed Deadpool as a non-threat, or at least non-hostile, because he crashes down on Peter’s other side.

“Shit,” the man says, twitching nervously. It’s irritating, the way his eyes flick around and he licks his lips every few seconds.

“I’m so sorry Peter. This is all my fault.”

Wade’s ears start ringing, like those words were a shot fired right by Wade’s head. He feels like he’s out of his body, watching himself move as he calmly stands and steps around his baby boy’s crumpled form. It isn’t until Wade’s hand is twisting in his filthy sweatshirt and throwing him away from his sweetheart that the guy seems to realize that Wade is, in fact, hostile.

Extremely hostile.

On some level, he recognizes that the guy is probably not wholly, or even mostly to blame for his sweetie’s condition. If Wade was a better boyfriend, if he had his shit together, then this never would have happened because he would have been there to prevent it.

But Wade can examine those feelings later, because right now he’s losing his mind all over again and there’s some dickwad who just claimed responsibility for his bunny boy’s mutilation. 

The guy is yelling stuff as Wade pursues him, intent on hacking him to pieces. He isn’t very good at this whole ‘fighting’ thing, Wade realizes as the idiot barely manages to avoid losing an appendage for the third time.

It seems to have sunk in that Deadpool is really, seriously trying to kill the man when the black tendrils make their appearance. The man trips when Wade takes a lazy swing that barely misses and is now scrambling backwards, the tendrils steadying him and speeding his progress as he tries to flee. 

Wade smiles joylessly as he prepares to cut the man down the middle; if his experience with the other creatures is anything to go by, he’ll have a short window before the wound closes to shove a grenade in the open cavity.

The blade is centimeters from its target when Wade is tackled and the other man hauled backwards and away.

Oh right, there were all those other heroes in the park.

Under almost any other circumstances, Wade would be delighted to have Captain America all up on him like this.

Wade tries to calm himself, aware that killing hoodie man isn’t worth pissing off every single Avenger and having to deal with them on his ass for the foreseeable future.

“Jesus Brock,” Hawkeye crows, “your ability to make anyone try to kill you with a single sentence never ceases to amaze me.”

“I didn’t even _do_ anything,” the man in the gray sweatshirt whines.

“Eddie, are you injured?” Captain America asks, his voice sharp and commanding in Wade’s ear.

Wade takes a moment to process the information, then lunges forward with renewed vigor. He feels soft tissue tear and joints dislocate as he yanks himself free from the super soldier’s grasp.

There’s only a foot or so between Wade and his target when he’s taken down again, and this time Captain America pins him to the ground, hard. Wade struggles to free himself, ready to fight any and all comers just so he can get his hands around Eddie fucking Brock’s neck, or his sword in the shit-head’s gut, or a grenade shoved down his throat. He’s contemplating just trying to free a hand up enough to pull a pin on a hand grenade and blowing them all up, even though a world without Captain America would be kind of sad. He’s near enough to the homewrecker and boyfriend murderer that it’ll take him out too, freaky black goo-creature or no.

That’s when Steve Rogers leans in and tells him exactly what he needs to hear right now.

“Peter’s alive. He’s being taken to the Tower for medical treatment right now.”

Wade feels like a marionette whose strings have been cut, the fight draining out of him immediately.

He lets himself be pushed and directed around, feeling lost.

He was so certain he had lost Petey for good. The injuries- they weren’t survivable, not for a regular person. But then, his baby boy has always had a lot of fight in him. And Stark and Banner have access to all sorts of crazy medical technology. Maybe it’s possible. Maybe Wade’s finally snapped completely and now he’s just fantasizing about a happy ending when there’s none to be had.

-

Hours later he’s sitting in a conference room in Avengers Tower with Clint Barton in civvies watching him like, well, a hawk.

Not that Wade needs much watching right now. His mask is laying in a sad heap on the table and his weapons are out of easy reach. It was a compromise Captain America had brokered when Stark demanded Wade disarm if he was to be allowed in the building.

Peter just got out of surgery, according to a terse update from his babysitter. On the one hand, Wade desperately wants to be near him, watch over him, apologize to his unconscious form until his vocal cords tear and bleed and heal themselves so he can do it all over again. On the other, he doesn’t deserve to.

So instead, he’s been reading through all the texts from Peter that he ignored since their fight. At first there are apologies, of course. After the initial flood, they slowly taper out to a trickle of memes and funny pictures with messages like ‘made me think of you’, and ‘I hope you’re doing okay’.

Then, yesterday, Peter sent a text that read ‘Hi, I know I shouldn’t ask you for anything, and it’s fine if you can’t, but I really need your help with something. Please call me?’.

And then, early this morning: ‘No worries, I can handle it myself! Hopefully we can talk soon! :)’.

A few hours after that, he started calling Wade to say goodbye.

Wade stares at the last two texts, trying to read what happened in the spaces around them. To find some insight about how his baby boy was feeling, what he was going through when they were sent.

It’s futile, of course.

He’s not sure if he’s irritated or relieved when Steve Rogers, sans Captain America costume, comes into the room. The man looks tired, but there’s a good-natured twinkle in his eyes. It lifts some of the dread that has been blanketing Wade more and more heavily with every minute he’s been forced to wait in this post-modern hellscape of a conference room.

Everything is glass and white and stainless steel, and he fucking hates it.

“So,” Rogers starts conversationally as he drags a chair away from the table and settles down to face Wade. “Peter is doing better than we hoped when we brought him in.”

“What does that mean?” Wade asks, having to restart because his voice is too hoarse to get the words out on his first attempt. ‘Alive’ is better than Wade could have hoped when they’d announced they were bringing Peter in, looking so pale and lifeless and _small_. There’s a long way between alive and ‘okay’, or even ‘alive’ and ‘going to ever wake up and function again’ that Wade doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

“It means he should wake up in a few hours,” Steve smiles. “Thanks, in large part, to you.”

Wade nods, unsure of what else to do.

“What’s your relation to Petey anyways?” Barton finally pipes up. It’s the first thing he’s said to Wade since they got into the room.

“Relation?” Wade asks.

“Yeah, you know, are you like, his uncle or something?”

“Or maybe his boyfriend?” Steve suggests, way too casually.

It’s a good question, Wade supposes. What is he to his baby boy right now? Can Wade call himself Peter’s boyfriend? If he can’t, though, then that would mean his sweetheart was available for creeps like Eddie fucking Brock and that sure as shit wasn’t true.

“Boyfriend,” Wade says, maybe a little too emphatically after too long a pause.

He doesn’t miss the way that Hawkeye’s face falls and Steve Rogers smirks ever so slightly.

“What? No! Are you sure you aren’t his creepy uncle?” Barton whines. “You know, on account of the whole,” he gestures wildly at his body, and Wade is beyond confused.

“Barton,” Steve cuts him off sharply. “None of that.”

“Right,” Wade says, feeling like he’s missing a vital piece of information. “What was going on in the Park? How were Peter and Brock involved?”

“They’re not,” Hawkeye grumbles, “I checked.”

Wade stares at him in confusion for a moment while Steve pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Peter and Brock were _involved_ ,” Steve sighs. “Just not with each other. Intimately.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Okay, I’m going to restart,” Steve claps his hands once. “There were some accusations against Brock from a…less than reliable source. While we didn’t entirely trust this source, we did try to bring Eddie in. He objected, and at some point along the way met Peter, who agreed to help hide him from us while we figured out what was really going on.”

“I was the go-between,” Barton smirks.

It explains that weird meeting between Hawkeye and Peter the night his baby boy had come clean about his name. Given their interaction, though, Wade doesn’t think that smarmy look belongs on Barton’s face. Unless something happened later.

“Shut up, Barton, you’re not helping. Anyway, we were starting to make some progress in dealing with Carlton Drake- the one who was actually assisting the monsters we were fighting in the park- there was a doctor who had been helping Brock manage his symptoms and us figure out where the creatures had come from and what they were capable of, who was working undercover at Life Foundation. Something caused her to panic, which ended up leading to the mess in the park, which you saw.”

“And Peter?” Wade presses, “Why was he there? Is he some kind of…mini-Avenger? An Avenger Intern? Avengetern?”

“Peter’s involvement was…incidental and unintentional on our end,” Steve at least has the good grace to look regretful. Barton just looks weirdly smug.

“Well, sort of unintentional. I mean, I did kind of pick him out from-”

“No, you didn’t,” Steve cuts his fellow Avenger off.

“Okay,” Wade says, a strange sort of calm settling over him. This is yet another one of those Petey-mysteries that he’s going to have to deal with. He thinks he should feel frustrated, but instead it invokes a sort of familiar fondness.

All partners have their quirks, he supposes. Petey’s fondness for secrets and being in the middle of baffling situations is apparently his. Wade can tolerate it. He can learn to find it endearing, even. Especially now that he knows the alternative is so, so much more painful.

“When can I see him?” Wade asks, rather than push for more details. He’ll get them later or he won’t; what’s important is that his baby boy is safe and _his_. He doesn’t want Brock or Barton anywhere near his honey bunny unattended.

“Not yet, but soon. How about you take a shower first?”

Given that Wade can’t remember the last time he bathed, that’s probably a good idea. He doesn’t want to knock his sweetheart right back out with his stench as soon as he walks in the room.

-

It turns out that not even Tony Stark’s postmodernist design and obviously expansive cleaning staff can keep the communal shower from being a little dingey. Wade can’t point out a specific area that is unclean, but it has a certain _vibe_ that no amount of bleach can ever clean. Not unlike his attempts at scrubbing himself clean of the dirty feeling that the Avengers somehow know more about the boyfriend he almost terminally failed than him. Scrubbing it away with the strangely rose-scented combination liquid soap/shampoo that spurted cheerfully out of a chrome soap dispenser.

Chrome. Soap. Dispenser.

Wade isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry over Stark’s design choices. Or, that’s how he would feel if he wasn’t so numb from the shock of ignoring his potentially cheating honey bunny, to his baby boy slowly dying in front of his eyes, to his sweetheart being alive and recovering and somehow being involved with the Avengers and evil plots with eldritch creatures.

The sweatpants and hoodie he finds waiting for him alongside a towel so fluffy it’s probably banned in at least four states don’t fit quite right, but Wade is grateful to be pulling them on instead of trying to pour himself back into his filthy leathers. The sweatshirt says ‘BETHANY’ across the front. He’s certain there’s some sort of inside joke there that he’s simply not getting, but it fits reasonably well and smells like dryer sheets.

He is doubly grateful for the shower and change of clothes when he finds himself in Petey’s room with a woman who can only be May. They both stand there awkwardly, staring at an unconscious Peter hooked up to an assortment of machines and looking exceptionally small with all the tubing and oversized hospital gown.

“I’m May,” she confirms his suspicions.

“Wade,” He replies, awkwardly.

May fusses with a bouquet of slightly smushed looking irises and daisies as the silence stretches between them, time marked out in increments by the steady beeping of the machines.

They make eye contact several times, and both take a breath as if to say something, but then fall back into deafening silence.

It’s May who finally speaks.

“I was supposed to be his aunt.”

Wade stares at the woman as she tenderly pushes Petey’s hair away from his face, careful not to disrupt any of the wires, tubes or bandages.

“I was engaged to his uncle,” she continues, “but he died before the wedding. I was heartbroken and went off to work as a nurse abroad. When I came back years later, I tried to check in on his family only to realize that the Parkers had died in an accident and that Peter was bouncing around in foster care. I was never officially family, so I didn’t have any real claim on him, but it felt…right, that we should be family.”

“Oh,” Wade says, finally, unsure of what to make of the confession. “I didn’t…”

“Peter’s always tries to avoid talking about unpleasant things. He doesn’t want to burden anyone with them,” May says with a sad smile. “I’m glad he has someone else looking out for him, though. I was… very sick for a long time. I relied on him too much when I was in treatment, and I’m afraid that he decided he couldn’t tell me when he needed help anymore.”

“I didn’t do a very good job,” Wade admits, feeling ashamed of every negative thing he’s thought about this woman. Unlike her, he had no excuse. Petey had straight up asked him and Wade just ignored it.

“Did fine,” a voice slurs from the bed.

“Pete!” Both Wade and May rush to his side, and Wade suppresses the urge to push her aside so he can be the only one there with him.

Peter attempts a comforting pat for each of them, but the reality is more of an uncoordinated flail.

There are so many things that Wade wants to say, to ask his sweetie, but with May here it seems wrong somehow. So, for maybe the second or third time in his entire life, Wade shuts up, sits back, and watches as May fusses over a not-entirely coherent Peter. Just being in the same room with Petey, seeing the dopey grins his sweetie shoots him every few minutes, is enough.

Wade’s good mood persists even when Steve, Stark, and Banner all file solemnly into the room.

It doesn’t end until Stark starts talking, which is inevitable, really.

“The good news is that Peter should recover from his injuries just fine. Yay! Good job everyone, we didn’t let the overly and needlessly involved civilian die.”

The tone grates on Wade’s nerves, and he shifts uncomfortably where he stands like an overprotective gargoyle by Petey’s bed. May looks similarly troubled, if the frown tugging at the corners of her lips is any indication. 

“The bad news,” Stark continues, undeterred by the unenthusiastic response to his ‘good news’, “is that we aren’t totally sure we got all the baddies. Skirth didn’t get us all the information before she freaked out and kicked the bucket, so we’ve got to go off the assumption that there were more of the creatures – Symbiotes, by the way – than we encountered. We have every reason to believe they would have a grudge against the people involved with the fight today, and civilian Pete here just happens to be the most vulnerable for any revenge attempts. That’s why I’m going to have to insist he remain here at the tower for the time being. For safety.”

Wade objects to this for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which is the fact that the tower is occupied by the likes of Barton and Brock. And given Petey’s bad history with men with ‘B’ names – Wade hasn’t forgotten Brad – then one Bruce Banner will likely end up being a problem as well. Wade isn’t comfortable leaving his sweet little Pete in a lion’s den like that.

Petey, bless his drugged-up little heart, looks exceptionally pouty at this bit of information as well. Given that they’re on the same page, Wade would just as soon tell Stark to go fuck himself with something gritty, and then ride off into the sunset with his baby boy.

With May here though, he’s not sure he has the authority to do so. Or at least, not until she speaks.

“I think it would be best if Peter recovered somewhere he feels safe.”

“Feeling safe and being safe aren’t the same thing,” Stark counters.

“He isn’t necessarily safe here.” Wade is impressed by May’s determination in speaking back to The Famous Tony Stark. No wonder his baby boy can be so spicy sometimes. “I’ve seen how many times the tower gets attacked or infiltrated or blown up on the news. And that’s just the times that it’s bad enough that the media picks up on it. I suspect he would be safer staying with Wade.”

Wade feels an unfamiliar rush of pride and shame. There is no reason that May should have any confidence in his ability to protect her would-be nephew, given his track record. And yet, having the approval of what is the closest thing to a parent that Petey has is enough to have his heart full to bursting. It’s not something he ever had with Ness; the approval of her parents wasn’t even necessarily something he would have wanted. May seems like a good person though, and her approving of their relationship feels disproportionately good.

“I can keep him safe,” Wade says, and it feels like the most important promise he’s ever made.

“That’s not-” Stark starts.

“- Sounds like it’s settled, then,” May interjects primly.

As much as Wade wants to whisk Petey out immediately, it turns out not to be possible. He needs to be kept overnight for observation before they’ll let Wade take him home, since despite Stark’s confidence, complications from the emergency were still a risk.

It’s probably for the best, because Wade’s apartment is an absolute wreck. He ends up not sleeping at all that night, cleaning frantically and going so far as to buy new sheets when he gets groceries so he’s well-stocked for his sweetie’s arrival.

Wade is determined to be the best nurse his honey bunny will ever experience.

-

Wade is trying to stealthily make blueberry pancakes, cursing his decision to rent a studio apartment rather than something with a separate bedroom and kitchen. The only benefit to this arrangement was that he could glance up to see how his baby boy was doing every couple of minutes as he tried to silently stir the berries into the batter.

Petey is sleeping, at least for now. Wade wants to have food ready for him when he wakes up to go along with his painkillers, so they won’t upset his poor little tummy too bad.

His timing is off by a few minutes, with Peter waking up with a discomfited groan just as the batter hits the skillet.

“Just a minute, honey,” Wade singsongs as he wills the pancakes to cook faster. He’s tempted to up the heat, but he doesn’t want them to burn on the outsides, so he settles for a firm glare.

“Kaaaaay,” Petey rasps pitifully from the bed.

Fixing the pancakes with a final death-stare, Wade hustles to prepare the rest of the breakfast platter for his sweetie, even though it’s two in the afternoon. He’s even got a single iris in a vase on the tray. Just to show he cares, and not at all to try to show Petey how much he loves him, since they haven’t had a chance to really talk since Peter was dying against a tree.

The fact that May had apparently considered Wade good enough to be Petey’s guardian while he recovered, didn’t mean that Petey necessarily wanted to continue their relationship. Not after what Wade did.

He’s nervous to start the conversation, and by the time the pancakes are done and the tray is slid onto the little jerry-rigged bed-table, Wade is actually sweating from the nerves. He pushes Petey to swallow his pain-meds first, knowing that a drugged up Petey is probably not a Petey he can have potentially life-altering conversations with, and that he’s a coward for trying to delay this even more.

Petey thanks him, and is halfway through his stack of syrup-drenched pancakes before he clumsily sets the fork and knife down to regard Wade with serious, albeit slightly glazed, eyes.

“I have something to tell you,” Peter says, and his tongue sounds a little thick for his mouth. The drugs are already starting to kick in, Wade notes. Whatever Banner and Stark cooked up, the kid is on some good shit.

“Okay,” Wade says, even though he should probably tell his baby boy to wait until he’s sober. But Wade didn’t listen when his sweetie tried to ask him for help, so he should listen to whatever it is Petey wants to tell him, when he wants to.

“I was bit by a spider and I have superpowers,” Petey tells him solemnly, sliding a little to the side like gravity’s pull on him has been shifted by the strength of the drugs Wade just gave him.

It’s not the weirdest thing Wade has ever heard, to be honest. While he’s not entirely sure his baby boy is speaking the truth and this isn’t just the medication speaking, he’s not about to discourage Petey from confiding in him.

Besides, it makes sense that there’s something a little different about his bunny boy, given Wade’s observations, the weird comments from Barton, and the fact that Petey is alive despite receiving a mortal wound.

“That must be handy,” Wade replies carefully.

“It’s not,” his baby boy wrinkles his nose. “I don’ know what I should do and I gotta keep it secret. I can jump super high too, and climb walls with my sticky fingers,” he wiggles his fingers at Wade to illustrate, “and I’m super strong so I gotta be careful all the time. I heal fast. An’ also I’m a jumping spider not a bunny, I _told_ you!”

Wade blinks. It’s true, his sweetie did tell him that.

“If that was you informing me of your arachnid-based superpowers, I think we need to have a long discussion about communication, baby boy.”

“It wasn’t,” Peter shakes his head slowly and a little too enthusiastically. It makes Wade worry about his neck, although he doesn’t need to, given his sweetie’s enhanced strength.

That he’s seen, and experienced, even. Wade thinks back to the broken door and how easily Petey held him down that one night. A lot of things are making more sense now.

“I am telling you I love you though,” Petey tells him.

Wade’s breath catches in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t take this seriously, given Petey’s state of mind.

But he desperately wants to believe it.

This is his third chance at love, Wade decides. He should have lost it a second time, but his determined, secretive, grumpy boy somehow managed to stay with him.

Wade isn’t going to lose this a third time.

“I love you too,” Wade says, blinking back tears as Petey gives him a dopey smile and a syrupy kiss on the cheek.


End file.
